


Dead Space: Ordination

by PyroFox117



Category: Dead Space (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Friendship, Eventual Romance, F/M, Kind-Of Necrophilia (but not really because they're both sentient and consenting), Sentient Female Necromorph, Technobabble
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2020-12-07 22:07:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 262,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20983151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyroFox117/pseuds/PyroFox117
Summary: On the USG Ishimura, screams of the living have been supplanted by roars of the dead. Curtis, a Unitologist miner, is one of the few still clinging to life within, and desperate to escape. The Marker, however, is not easy to elude. On his quest, he encounters survivors from the colony, a Unitology-hating engineer, and a necromorph with her own agenda. Eventual OC X Fem!Stalker





	1. Terra Incognita

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Welcome back to Dead Space: Ordination. If you're new here, I started this back in 2017… and it stalled for quite a bit. Still, very I'm passionate about this story and hope to see it grow and continue just like my FNaF tale.
> 
> This rewrite isn't too different from my old version, but there are some changes. The biggest one is that the original Curtis was kind of bland, and I tried to make him more interesting for this. Hopefully it's not too info dump-y, as well. And if you're wondering about the "OC X Stalker" in the summary… well, you'll see at some point! I'm very excited for that aspect, though there's plenty I'm hyped to write about. Also, I've done a ton of research on the lore of Dead Space and think I have a very good handle on it, even the stuff that no one cares about.
> 
> There're still some unanswered questions, of course, but I'll cross those bridges when I get to them. Thanks so much for checking this out, and I'm excited to experience this with all of you!
> 
> Oh, and one more thing. If you're a fan of the series, you already know to look at the names of the chapters…

**Earth Orbit**

**CEC Shipyard EH-145-K**

**7 Days Pre-Outbreak**

Curtis stared down at Earth, slowly rotating beneath his feet.

It was so different up here. The mega-cities and metropolises held such charms, like the scent of fast food wafting through dark alleys or rain momentarily parting omnipresent smog, that couldn't be found anywhere else. For those looking to get away… the only way out was up. Not that he particularly wanted to leave, especially as he again glanced down through the glass. The United States Sector just spun into view, evening falling across it. The Eastern Seaboard was nothing but a beautiful string of lights stretching hundreds of miles up and down the coast… including his home.

_Oh, c'mon, _he thought. _You've only been off-planet a couple hours. You shouldn't miss the North Carolina Hubs yet. _Besides, the packed space station was a city in its own right. Loud, smelly and belligerent. There was nowhere else he'd rather be, and he needed to savor the few minutes remaining.

After all, the mission lasted six months! That was the longest he'd ever been away from Earth by a long shot. Small-time miners like him usually worked two- or three-week stints in the asteroid belt or Titan mines.

"Attention, ladies and gentlemen," a perky synthetic voice said over the station's intercoms, snapping him out of his ruminations. "The next shuttle for the USG Ishimura boards in five minutes. Please have your identification ready!"

Upon hearing the ship's name, his homesickness evaporated. He _could_ and _would _do this. Hesitation be damned; he was going to tear open a planet and save humanity, no ifs ands or buts. Confident, he cut through the crowd like butter and made it to the correct queue. It was already packed, with a line of people practically out the airlock. Well, waits were one thing he didn't like about the city. Impatiently tapping his foot on solid metal, he brought up a holographic screen from the projector mounted on his RIG's chest, scrolling through a map of the Ishimura again. It was an enormous ship, bigger than –

"Move it, jackass."

Curtis' temper flared, and he was about to shoot back when he realized everyone in front of him had boarded and he was holding up the line. "Sorry," he spat, stalking up to the flight attendant.

"Name, rank and RIG number, please," she said, obviously not impressed with his behavior. That only made him angrier, but he forced those emotions back down. The last thing he wanted to do was get in trouble before the ship even departed.

"Curtis Mason, Class 5 Miner, RIG number 492770."

Joylessly, she passed some kind of scanner over him, doubtless checking his genetics to make sure he wasn't some kind of imposter. It sent a shiver down his spine; the CEC must have kept a really tight lid on things, considering he rarely dealt with this before. "Next!"

Sighing, he stepped forward into the airlock before slowly turning around. Through the window at the far end of the corridor, the same one he'd stared out earlier, he saw the outline of Earth framed against the sun. God, he would miss it. He always did.

…

Things weren't exactly comfortable on the shuttle. He was used to pressing shoulder-to-shoulder with unknown individuals on public transport, but the fact that they were in space somehow added another layer to the experience. Couldn't explain why, though. _Well, it'll only take a few minutes. _And then the impulse drive rumbled to life, and they were off.

Curtis mostly spent the flight over checking out the women. Perverse? Probably, but they'd be gone half a damn year! Couldn't be expected to work all that time, and it was a while since he'd hooked up. Even with all the Ishimura's amenities, space was cold and empty. He knew from experience that sleeping with someone alleviated both those problems.

The one who stood out the most was a cute blonde sitting a little to the left of him. She seemed almost as nervous as him, though she tried to hide it without much success. Honestly, he might have introduced himself were it not for the muscular, ponytailed mountain of a man sitting between them. _I'll talk to her if I see her onboard._

Speaking of onboard, the craft jolted as the guidance tethers kicked in, creating a strange vertigo he never quite got the hang of. Nobody vomited, at least; that was a good sign. That was even quicker than he expected. A minute later, the shuttle settled, and its rumbling engines faded away.

"We have arrived at the USG Ishimura," the same artificial voice again said over the intercom. "Please make sure you have your belongings. Further instructions have been forwarded to each individual RIG. Have a pleasant day!" The voice crackled for a moment before popping out of existence. The doors slid open, whirring as they did, and everyone stood up.

Curtis' heart pounded in his chest. Finally, after imagining this fanciful pipe dream for years, he was here. Like those stupid ads for Lightspeed bars said, it felt like a rocket in his stomach. By the time he emerged from the ship into the artificial hangar lights, he practically drooled.

For a moment, the glaring lights blinded him, but when his vision returned, he realized this would be worth it.

A huge hangar stretched before him, the largest he had ever seen on a spaceship. It amplified the voices around him so that loud became absolutely deafening, a constant roar. It was more like a city than he expected. _Oh, I'm gonna like it here, _he thought, feeling his smile stretch from ear to ear.

A few hundred people were already present, most of them filtering to the far end of the room as their shuttles flew back through the blue-tinged sealant grid and into the vacuum of space to the CEC orbital platforms for another batch of crew. He joined them, not even feeling in control of his own body. Rather, euphoria seized him, and he pulled up his holo-screen while following the designated path. Doing so while walking was generally discouraged, considering the screen obstructed one's view, but he wanted – no, _needed _– to see the whole ship right now!

It looked like most people, including him, needed to go to the Crew Deck for bunk registration. _Awesome. I'll do that and then maybe there'll be time to – _

_Clang!_

Before he registered the noise, he was flat on his back, groaning. A fire burned in his head as he writhed on the floor. It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened; he slammed right into a wall. There was a reason people didn't walk and read at the same time, and he'd forgotten it in his haste to sightsee. _Fuck me._

With his back still against cold metal, he felt two massive hands on his shoulders. Opening his eyes, he saw the ponytailed man through a blurry filter.

"Are you all right?" the enormous man asked with a surprisingly soft voice. Or maybe the raucous din just made it seem that way. Several other people gathered around, all except him amused by Curtis' plight. Frustration again flared within his chest. He realized deep down that it was immature, but he didn't want to be seen as weak. Not seconds after arriving!

"I'm fine." Curtis rebuffed his assistance, staggering to his feet and bracing himself on a guardrail. Thankfully, the others moved on with the flow of people now streaming past. He sucked air through his teeth; damn, his head hurt!

"You're bleeding, you know." Just as the man said this, a thin stream of blood trickled down his temple and spattered the floor.

_Yeah, that's real fucking helpful. _What he said out loud was a bit more polite, however. "Ugh… do you know where Medical is?"

"It's four stops away on the tram system. Do you need help – " Before he finished his sentence, Curtis already left, dripping a trail of blood across the corridor.

…

"Welcome to the Medical Deck," that same damn sappy synthetic voice said. Maybe it was just because he was profusely bleeding out the head, but it suddenly seemed really, _really _annoying. Must have been the standard CEC artificial "intelligence", considering he'd heard it all day – the space station, the shuttle and now the Ishimura itself.

He didn't need to push his way through people, at least; they understood where the man with a bloody tissue pressed to his forehead was trying to go. Thankful, he stepped onto the ominous platform. If there was any doubt about his location, the words **MEDICAL DECK **printed into the floor didn't leave much to the imagination. A second later, the tram car's door slipped shut and the vehicle blasted off to the next leg of its eternal journey, sucking some of the gray fog that filled the tunnel along with it.

For the first time in a long while, Curtis was alone. That unnerved him. Not even the sound of engines comforted him, as the ship was still stationary.

Putting aside unease for the actual pain, he set off down one of the halls. According to his holo-screen (which he now stopped walking to read) this was the way to the emergency room. He didn't _think _the wound was life-threatening – by the Marker, he hoped not – but he was no doctor. He was just there to dig up ore, the one thing in the galaxy he was good at.

"Hello?" he called as he walked down the hall. It echoed against the metal before slowly fading away. A knot grew in his stomach. While he knew the Clogger wasn't going to jump out of the shadows and stab him to death, the lack of sound and smell made the walls press down on him. He'd lived in cities all his life: the North Carolina Hubs, Mars Capita, the Sprawl. They operated endlessly, as this ship soon would, and the fact that he might have been the only person on this deck was a genuinely alien experience, a little stranger than leaving Sol, even.

_Wait a second… only person on this deck? _He sighed, leaning against a wall. Short-sightedness struck again. He couldn't receive treatment if the doctors hadn't arrived! Whatever, he was already here, and it didn't sound like Crew Deck check-in was urgent, so he supposed he could loiter a few minutes.

Another flare of pain made him groan; some things were best worried about when not hemorrhaging out the head. A minute later, he reached a large waiting room. _Damn, where do I go from here? _"Hello?" he again called with no response but his own voice whispering back.

Still, better that he was there for a cut rather than some of the other injuries a space miner could sustain: getting burned by engines or crushed by an asteroid or bombarded with radiation or lacerated by machinery. There were a million ways to die in space, but fortunately, Planet Crackers were outfitted with the best curative technology in the galaxy. The Ishimura was definitely a safer work environment than the cheap Magpie haulers he'd worked in the past. Right as he thought that, a small blurb about the morgue being renovated popped up on a holo-screen, and a chill passed through him.

"May I help you?"

Caught unaware, Curtis whirled around to see a woman in a white medical uniform standing in one of the doorways, staring at him with concern. When their eyes locked, his brain sputtered, trying to figure out why she seemed so familiar. _Wait, she's that lady from the shuttle! _The same realization seemed to dawn on her, but she ignored it for more important matters.

"That's a serious cut. Come with me," she said, beckoning to him.

Not needing to be told twice, he followed her down a short corridor punctuated with images of smiling physicians who extolled the wonders of the Ishimura's state-of-the-art medicine… with the CEC logo slapped in the corners, of course. Soon, they emerged into what could only be the ER, with cots and IV drips set up for particularly bad cases. The place was spotless white, unlike the rest of the ship, which was as dark and stained as any 62-year-old craft should be.

She walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a small gray cylinder that was very familiar in his line of work. Returning, she handed it to him and said, "Rub that around on your forehead. Should heal in a few hours." Breathing a sigh of relief, Curtis dipped two fingers into the cyan gel and lathered it about, relieved by the cooling sensation. He had no clue how Med Packs worked, but who was he to question science? Meanwhile, the doctor was busy booting up some complicated-looking medical doodads.

He had half a mind to just leave, considering she was obviously busy, but with the pain fading, he realized what an asshole he was to the guy who tried to help him earlier. Didn't want to make the same mistake again. And, if he was being honest, he still thought she was pretty cute. "Thanks for helping me. I worried no one would be here."

To his surprise, she frowned and shook her head. "So was I. This equipment needs checking, after all. The rest of the medical team is stuck in quarantine; the only reason I got through is because I'm the Senior Medical Officer."

Curtis didn't know exactly what that meant, but it sounded impressive. Impressive enough that he probably didn't have a shot with her. Kind of disappointing, but hey, there were hundreds or thousands of other women aboard. "So you're the head doctor around here?"

"Exactly. Not as cool as it sounds, though. It means I do the most paperwork and get a little plaque on my desk. It's not like I'm EarthGov's Surgeon General." She turned away again. "I'm overwhelmed. I've never been in charge of something this scale before."

"Same here. If it makes you feel better, I've never even left Sol before."

A little intrigued, she asked, "Really?" to which he nodded. That was uncommon in this age of interstellar travel. The journey excited him just as much as the destination. "Huh. Everybody I know has been out at least once or twice. Trips are getting more affordable."

The throbbing in his skull slowly subsided as the seconds passed. If the doctor wanted to talk for a little while, that was fine with him. Might as well wait for the Crew Deck crowd to thin a bit. Besides, he wanted to make friends this trip… and knowing the SMO might prove a fortuitous connection. If he ever did get in an accident, maybe she'd give him priority.

"I never found the time, but I've wanted to for a while. So here I am."

"And you get paid for it," she replied with a smirk, on her knees fiddling with some pharmaceutical device.

_Should have seen that coming. _"Fine, you got me." He raised his hands in mock surrender, which made her roll her eyes. "But the Ishimura's the most famous spacecraft in history. I wouldn't be a real miner if I didn't serve here at least once."

"Miner, eh? What's your specialty? Processing? Ore extraction? Working the gravity tethers?"

"Dabbled in everything, but extraction's my favorite. There's nothing like breaking open billion-year-old rocks and seeing what's inside. Plus it's more fun to navigate a zero-gravity environment than stand around a conveyor belt." Before long, he'd launched into a detailed monologue. His profession was the only topic he felt knowledgeable enough to discuss in any detail, so he got really into it. Not like he had anyone else to tell all this.

He did try to cut it short, though, wrapping up after a few minutes. By this point, the agony vanished completely, leaving him much happier. "I guess I'm just happy to have met someone who's new to the ship; I get the impression most people here have worked planet cracks before."

"So am I," the doctor responded. "But I'm excited. My boyfriend's done engineering work on the Ishimura before, and he couldn't stop talking about what a great ship it is. That's what made me take the position. In other words, I'm not interested." Curtis immediately deflated, and his face grew hot. She knew the whole time exactly what he was doing and how to stop it.

"I – I'm sorry!" he stammered, his face cast toward the floor. "I really didn't mean to offend you or know you were with someone! Please forgive me!" Admittedly, he was never great with women… or _people, _for that matter, but it wasn't usually _this _apparent.

She was about to reply when the door they'd previously entered through, revealing a rotund man in the same type of uniform the doctor wore.

"Am I interrupting anything?" he asked with an accent he couldn't quite place, shocked to see someone already injured.

"No," she answered. "Are you here to see somebody?"

"As a matter of fact, I am. Would you happen to know the whereabouts of Dr. Brennan?"

"You're looking at her."

"Splendid!" The man walked over, and they shook hands. "I'm CSO Terrence Kyne. I wanted to stop by and introduce myself; the Chief Science and Senior Medical officers typically work in tandem."

Curtis breathed a silent sigh of relief; ashamed as he already was, he didn't need to get chewed out, and this made a good distraction. Better to just cut his losses and leave. Filled with embarrassment, he slunk toward the door. It was pretty much ideal. Though brightly lit, "Dr. Brennan" faced away from him, and the floor was some kind of stain-resistant laminate rather than metal, so his footfalls didn't make quite as much noise.

"Could I get your name, rank and RIG number? I'll have to file a report about this."

_Of fucking course. _Just wanting to leave, he spouted out, "Curtis Mason, Class 5 Miner, RIG number 492770," before placing his hand on the blue hologram in the door's center. It slid into the ceiling, and he flitted out of the room. Somehow, he suspected he'd have to get to stating those three facts _a lot _in the next six months.

…

"Where the fuck am I?" Curtis mumbled as he rambled through the halls, utterly lost. Earlier, being alone both terrified and thrilled him. After his encounter with Dr. Brennan, though, those feelings merged into one of annoyance. Not at her, of course – he wasn't (or hoped he wasn't, at least) one of those assholes who measured a woman's worth by how likely she was to sleep with him. No, the blame lay squarely at his feet for flirting with someone he'd just met.

To be fair to himself, though, such behavior was the norm on most gigs. Most miners, whether EarthGov sanctioned or illegal Magpies, weren't exactly known for subtly. Such direct conduct was usually expected, if not encouraged.

But this was a Planet Cracker. Not just any Planet Cracker, either: it was the USG Ishimura!

All of humanity depended on the minerals and ores extracted by it. The people aboard were a different breed, far more professional than the uneducated two-bit spacers who trawled the Kuiper Belt… which included him, much as he hated to admit it.

_Why did the CEC even hire me? _he thought, pausing for a moment to see if he could spot any landmarks. Not to complain, but it seemed odd to receive an offer when he wasn't distinguished in any way. There were literally thousands of people in the same situation, harvesting the few remaining resources of Sol. While not as mineral-abundant as the colonies, that was offset by easy access to the largest market in the galaxy and low set-up costs. _Well, thank Altman I'm here. I shouldn't be questioning this… and where the Hell is the tram?! _

This place was a fucking maze. The map on the ship-wide Transnet server confused him even more; he'd never worked on a vessel with so many levels (about a dozen arranged vertically), all divided between different "Decks" which intersected in several places. Plus, the Locator system wasn't yet online. Exasperated, he stomped down another hallway at random, this one looking no different from all the others.

With the pain gone, though, and his irritation fading slightly with time, he could actually appreciate the technological wonders around him. While the ship was more than six decades old, its craftsmanship was unlike anything he'd ever seen. The vid-logs didn't do it justice. Even that simple corridor looked hewn from solid metal. With the angular, powerful design, it was a mobile mountain. From small cracks and dents in the walls, the cold air blowing against his skin, it felt practically alive. That could be said about a lot of ships, but this one was special.

_Heh, if I'm this enamored with the hallways, I'll have to check out the Mining Deck! _He practically salivated at the thought of getting to bounce asteroids around a room the size of a football stadium! But he'd have time later. Right now, he _needed _to find –

He did a double take upon seeing the sign: glowing green with a tram emblazoned on it and an arrow pointing to the right. "Finally," he said, feeling like a desert nomad who'd just come across an oasis. Rounding the bend, he found himself back at the station he arrived at. Still completely empty. Without the blinding agony, however, he paid more attention.

A dark, spooky tunnel ran infinitely in both directions into dark oblivion. There were also some plush benches, a dichotomy that amused him. Besides those, it wasn't too different from the subway stations he rode in the Hubs. _Well, and the lack of people. _Again, that would change once operations were underway.

He walked over and settled into a comfy seat. The near-total silence was occasionally broken by strange sounds far above or below him. Again, the unnerved feeling returned. There was just nothing alive except the ship itself.

A howling echo pulsed through the chamber as the tram screeched in. The sudden noise would have scared most people, but Curtis felt thankful. Without hesitation, he boarded alongside several other people. With that, they took off down the winding tunnel.

…

_That's more like it, _Curtis thought, enjoying the company of several hundred of his new closest acquaintances as he worked through the crowd. This time, there was no attendant, meaning he didn't have to recite "Curtis Mason, Class 5 Miner, RIG number 492770" yet again. No, he got his living arrangement spun straight to his RIG, and, to the CEC's credit, everyone's assignments seemed accurate. It couldn't have been easy to send a thousand different bunk numbers to a thousand different people.

Therefore, within a reasonable amount of time, he reached Sleep Block A, bed 127 B, his home for the next six months. Most people had already come and gone by that point, allowing him to navigate without much difficulty. _I've seen worse. _The bed was pretty comfortable, and there was a shade he could pull down to block the ambient light. Plus it didn't reek… yet. Hundreds of sweaty miners milling about would soon make the room far less pleasant, so he'd enjoy what time he had.

Needing to rest a moment, he sat on his bunk and pondered everything. Earth would soon be light-years behind him, and an entire universe lay ahead. Much as he wanted to remain levelheaded, the prospect both elated and horrified him. Maybe it was old hat to these interstellar travelers, but he was about to see promises and dangers from distant stars for the first time. It held potential. Whether for good or ill was too soon to say.

_Maybe we'll meet some aliens, _he thought, lying down. _That'd be the day!_

A few minutes later, his stomach growled. Time meant little up here, but he realized it'd been several hours since he last ate. Normally, he'd hold out until his assigned mealtime, but those only began once they reached their destination. The ship must have departed soon, so now was a good time to find some grub. Stretching, he rose and moved toward a pub he spotted on the way in.

He quickly reached it; a small bar overlooking the Crew Deck's massive main lounge with a sign proudly proclaiming that all its produce came from "Ishimura Farms". That was hilarious to him, especially the farmhand in the old-timey spacesuit, although people from the colonies might not have understood the irony. _Here _was the action! He slid onto a stool and looked out the windows.

There was Earth, a green-blue orb silently hovering as spacecraft zoomed back and forth like wasps. He was no poet, but something always moved him about the sight. People called him and old soul, and maybe he was. The 26th Century was amazing, but sometimes he wouldn't have minded living in the old days, where there may as well have been nothing up here. _Curtis, you are strange._

The bartender came over, and he ordered a glass of Kirkwall whiskey, his favorite. There'd be more to come. _I'm going to get fucking wasted. _Drinking on the job was probably the worst thing a miner could do, so he'd remain completely sober once the crack started. For the next few days, though, there was little else to do, so why not get hammered? The rest of the crew seemed to agree, seeing how many raucous bodies crowded around various tables with drinks in hand.

He looked around, scanning various posters and holo-screen advertisements on the walls. There was one for the Z-Ball court, of course. _Might join a few games later, _he thought, sipping on the dark, sour liquid. _It'd help me readjusted to a Zero-G workspace. _Might also introduce him to some friends. _But probably not. Never had any before._

Other than that, there were several schlock movies that the CEC must have gotten the rights to screen in the Ishimura's theater, such gems as _Shaolin Monk Vs. Space Ninja,_ _Hot Duo _and _Rancid Moon_, which Curtis was a big fan of – he remembered going to see it as a teenager and laughing his ass off at the awful script and special effects_. _Also _Kitty Kitty Bang Bang, _which had been stuck in development limbo for several years. _We'll see about that. _Plus all the ones on the on-board streaming service.

Then something else caught his eye, far less garish than the other displays.

**Unitologist Opening Prayer – 1 Hour Prior to De-Shock**

**Begin or Continue your Relationship with the Marker**

**Featuring a Special Announcement from Captain Benjamin Mathius**

Feeling a pang of guilt, he eyed the drink in his hand before reluctantly putting it down. Unitology didn't have a problem with alcohol itself, but with drunkenness… as well as all things that were harmful to the body. _I should check that out_.

Many of the expeditions he'd participated in catered to Unitologists, but given that this was the Ishimura, he expected something spectacular. _Maybe it'd get me into the faith, too_. For a long time, Curtis toed the line. He wanted so much to believe in the religion, to be part of something bigger than himself. There was great beauty in it… but something within him refused.

It might have been that he was a natural skeptic. Or perhaps the steady stream of Unitologist terrorist attacks weighed on his mind. Regardless, he wanted very much to learn more. _Why not? I might meet some people. _Suddenly feeling more observant, he instead ordered a SUN cola.

The intercoms crackled to life, and a few people cheered before anything was said. Curtis' heart seized up for a second. The time had come.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Mathius speaking," said a husky male voice, probably quite along in years. At least it wasn't that damn robot. "We are completing final checks now. Everyone is aboard and accounted for. In just a few moments, we'll be departing for Aegis VII." Another round of applause, and this time he joined in. So close!

After a few other miscellaneous announcements, the Captain wrapped up with, "And to the more spiritual members of our fine crew, there is a Unitologist prayer meeting prior to de-shock. Trust me, you won't want to miss it." That last sentence held something Curtis couldn't quite place. The best he could come up with was… hunger.

With that, the system clicked off. All there was left to do was wait and brace himself. Having never entered shockspace, he wasn't sure what it'd feel like.

"Aw, great," the man sitting next to him slurred to no one in particular.

Though probably just drunken annoyance, Curtis found himself compelled to ask, "What?"

"The Captain's a fucking Marker-Head, that's what. I swear they're all over this ship." An angry heat sprang up in his gut, and he felt his hands clench. Even if he hadn't converted, people like this pissed him off. Sure, some anti-Unitology sentiment might be OK – Hell, it was good to think critcally! But insulting a man he'd never met for his faith… it angered him.

Of course, he couldn't do anything about it. EarthGov strongly believed in freedom of speech (at least according to the state-sanctioned media), and he wasn't about to start a fight over this. No, the best thing to do was leave him alone. And that's just what he did, walking over to another seat and planting himself in it right as the floor began to gently rumble.

Engines online.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Earth shrank in the windows. He suddenly felt very alone. And he hated it.

Then, in an instant, the universe he knew vanished, and in its place was a turquoise void, a beautiful torpid aether. Shockspace. It took his breath away. He'd seen pictures, vids from school in science class and plenty of films. But being there for the first time actually made him cry a little. He was so, so small, so unimportant compared to this. Then again, that feeling wasn't exactly new. Right then and there he decided he'd attend the revival or whatever it was. Unitology was all about finding meaning in togetherness, becoming part of a big, glorious One. Right now, he needed that.

Taking some complimentary peanuts, he just sat a while, staring out into the aurora and pondering his place in the universe. The day's toll began to catch up with him, and he leaned back, letting the colors wash over him. Though the place was quite loud, he was used to ignoring that. Before he went under, he thought, _I made the right choice by coming._


	2. Humanity's Transcendence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salutations. This chapter took a lot less time than I expected, though that's because it's a reworking of the old Chapter 2. If you didn't know, this is as far as I got originally; everything after this is original material that will probably take longer to produce.
> 
> I want to explain is how FTL comms work in the Dead Space universe; like many of the series' other scientific aspects, they're mostly ignored. Pretty much, the interstellar Internet is called the Transnet, and information is sent between stars via "Relaynet transmitters". It sounds similar to Comm Buoys from Mass Effect,but data is sent through shockspace, not the mass relays. Sorry if you don't care about this, yet I feel like it answers a lot of questions about the series. Granted, literally all this is stuff I gathered from Dead Space 2's intro cutscene, but it's something.
> 
> Other than that, feedback is always appreciated. Thanks for reading! Oh, and I also have a Ko-Fi account, AnInvisibleMan, if you're interested in checking that out. Don't worry, I won't shill it every chapter.

**USG Ishimura**

**6 Days Pre-Outbreak**

Curtis slowly roused from his sleep, much as he wanted to stay submerged in it. Dreams of wealth and glory and precious minerals wandered through his brain. If only he could hold onto them for a little longer… but it was for naught. Senses returning, he rubbed his eyes and looked around.

Most people previously present had disappeared, leaving a lounge full of scattered velvet chairs like the one he sat in. Outside, the beautiful lightshow continued, bathing the chamber in a soft jade glow. Groggy, he fumbled with his RIG before pulling up the flight information. Looked like he'd been asleep about six hours: four remained before de-shock.

_Only ten hours total? _he thought, getting up. _It's insane that we can travel light-years in the span of a day. _Technology was amazing, and he regretted not being smart enough to understand the things he used every day. In spite of his melancholy, he felt good! Well-rested, completely healed and ready to destroy a planet. Bolstered by the intense workout of splitting giant rocks open for hours at a time, he'd be in perfect shape by the expedition's end.

_Well, what should I do now?_

Three hours remained until the Unitologist meet-and-greet. Maybe he could check out what vids were available. He was never a movie buff, but he'd caught _a lot _of centuries-old films on jobs over the years; most were public domain. According to his RIG's database, many activities and groups were aboard to keep everyone entertained – book clubs, video game hobbyists, Triggerlink 710 fans. None of them really appealed to him, and the first meetings weren't for several days, so it was a moot point.

_Z-Ball? _He paced up and down the room, trying to come up with _something_. Right now, his biggest interest was exploring the ship; that was his primary reasons for coming, after the money. And considering his occupation, one deck in particular weighed heavily on his mind.

A little jaunt to Mining wouldn't hurt. In fact, it'd be a good opportunity to become familiar with his new equipment. _Why not? _The worst that could happen was he'd be bored.

Taking a final glance out the windows, he started toward the tram station, noting an uncharacteristic spring in his step. Maybe it was the simple fact that he didn't have to worry about food and shelter for the foreseeable future, but he felt comforted in a way he hadn't for quite a while.

As he navigated the deck, he passed several cliques of people chatting or making plans. _Good for them. _From a quick glance, it seemed like most of them already knew each other, which made sense. Who wouldn't keep working the Ishimura? Or maybe he didn't have enough friends to discern and he was way off. _Six months is a long time; I'll meet some people. _Even as he thought this, he shook his head. He had difficulty connecting to others, at least long term. That was one reason he liked the city so much. Even if he wasn't interacting with anyone, it provided the illusion of friendship.

Honestly, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a real conversation with another human. Small talk with coworkers and soulless, empty flirting during one-night stands didn't count.

Heart sinking, he reached the tram station, identical to the last except for the words printed on the ground. The floor transitioned from carpet to metal, and the sound of his feet morphed along with it. Another job, another period spent alone, even if he surrounded himself with others to try and mask it. Only now it would be _months, _not weeks.

As he stood on the platform with a few others, a spark of dogged ardor lit in his chest. Slowly, he came to realize something. Even if he tried to be social and fucked up, bungled, made himself look like an ass, well, he already did that with Dr. Brennan, so his current approach didn't work. He had nothing to lose by _trying _to make friends. _Except my pride if I do fail._

He should also try to build self-confidence.

The gondola arrived, a couple people filing off from parts unknown, before he and his fellows boarded. Curtis sat again, browsing garish ads plastered around the car. The strange thing was that he barely felt like he was moving. Might have been something mundane, like the system being well-built, or maybe more esoteric, like travelling through shockspace making movement _inside _the ship easier, as well.

It didn't matter and was largely to prevent him from striking up a conversation with one of the others aboard. He didn't want to seem foolish! Suddenly, he felt like a small child on a playground, getting ready to introduce himself to a group of potential friends. _If only it was that easy as an adult. _

But he'd do it.

Inhaling a deep breath of metallic, processed air, he turned to the woman sitting next to him and bit the bullet.

"Hey, my name's – "

"Now arriving at the Bridge," the fucking robot interrupted.

The doors opened, and everyone aboard hopped off before he could formulate a response; must all have been officers.

Throwing his hands up, Curtis vowed to say _something _to the next person he saw! It didn't matter what, as long as it wasn't an insult. He had to start somewhere, and it might as well be as soon as possible!

A couple minutes later, he was at Mining. He exited, pausing to watch the trolley zoom away. Deep below, he felt the faint rumbling of a million mineral pulverizers, conveyor belts and smelters; must have been warming them up.

It only enhanced his excitement. From the mere _feeling, _he already knew he was in for something spectacular. Fortunately, he studied the map a little more closely this time and therefore knew the right path. Nobody around, though, which made sense. By this point, all the decks were probably staffed, save this and Ore Storage. They didn't have uses until work actually began. _This'd be a great place for someone to sneak off and do drugs in the meantime._

Walking down the hall, he quickly reached a door larger than anything he'd yet encountered: **Mining Ops, **the holo-screen above it read. Beyond, he could only imagine the shiny new toys he'd get to play with. Though he knew he shouldn't think of this as a game, this part always felt like Christmas morning to him… and Santa brought a lot of presents that year! Placing his hand on the blue hologram, it opened, not disappointing in the slightest.

A sprawling room even larger than the main Crew Deck lounge greeted him, barracks for the thousand-strong legion of miners ready to dismantle a planet, packed with the latest technology. Most people didn't care about the equipment they used, but it was the most interesting part for Curtis. He wandered through the labyrinth of crates and lockers, all smelling of faded chemicals, not even sure where to begin! Every time he wanted to approach one thing, another caught his eye. Eventually, he settled on a storage rack furnished with prominent tools.

He picked up a C99 Supercollider – or "Contact Beam", as it was colloquially known – and inspected it. Clean, oiled and relatively lightweight. A solid piece. _The CEC can afford the best, I'll give 'em that._

Reluctantly, he replaced the device and snooped around a bit more. The most intriguing thing he found was an enormous lift barred by a metal grate, undoubtedly the main connection between here and the other subdecks. That'd have to wait for now. Even if it wasn't locked, pressing on might have been suicide. Between vacuums, heavy machinery and lethal radiation, venturing beyond the safe zone without a proper RIG killed more than a few. _A million ways to die in space… and where is my work RIG, anyway?_

Probably in one of the thousand identical cabinets surrounding him, but he hadn't been forwarded the number or combination yet. He shrugged. There would be plenty of time to get acquainted with his new duds once the time came. For the moment, he was satisfied with his progress and decided to depart, taking a final look around the wondrous room. It was so amazing that the fact he was alone scarcely mattered.

On his way out, another equipment rack caught his eye, this one stocked with smaller gear. Curious, he grabbed a Model 211-V (or "Plasma Cutter") from the frame, feeling pleasantly familiar in his hands. Nostalgia's warm embrace wrapped around him. _This takes me back. _The Plasma Cutter was the only tool he used on his very first job… or, rather, the only tool that the crew trusted him enough with. Being scarcely older than a teenager then, bigger ones were out of the question; Captain Malyech worried he'd accidentally kill somebody.

_I've come a such a long way, _he thought with pride. In less than a decade, he clawed his way from glorified powder monkey on a Magpie skiff to a professional employed by the most prestigious mining vessel in history. It brought a tear to his eye. As he raised his hand to wipe it away, his fingers slipped, which sent the tool clattering to the floor.

The rattle echoed for what seemed like eternity in the vast echo chamber. Letting out a sigh, he hung the Cutter back up and thanked God (or the Marker; Unitologists seemed to conflate the two) it wasn't loaded. _That could have blasted my foot off! _Perhaps Captain Malyech's concerns had been warranted.

"Hey! Who the Hell is in there?!"

_Aw shit. _Though he couldn't be certain, the gruff, authoritative tone implied the speaker was part of PCSI Security.

Curtis had half a mind to hide and wait it out, but he wasn't a criminal. Getting caught in such a position would make the officer much more suspicious. Plus, he reminded himself, he made that promise to talk to the next person he encountered. Well, he got his wish. Therefore, he awkwardly stood, beginning to sweat a little, as the door opened. A grizzled man at least a decade his senior stepped in, looking very annoyed.

"What's going on? This is a restricted area for a few more days. Isn't it a little early to be snorting Colony Blue behind a locker?" he barked, one hand hovering uncomfortably close to the Divet pistol on his belt.

"Th-that's not what's happening!" he stammered. The officer arched an eyebrow. "I – I wanted to look around the ship," he began, the fear that he might be arrested lingering. "So I came down here and was admiring this Cutter and I, uh… dropped it…"

The man was not impressed. "You're a miner, I take it."

"Yes, sir. Curtis Mason, Class 5 Miner, RIG number 492 – "

"Yeah, yeah, spare me the details," he replied, and Curtis' heart sank when he activated his RIG's audio feed, presumably spinning a log to his superior. It felt like he was about to faint! Sure, he did some illegal stuff in the past, but that was just mining without clearance. Nobody cared! Might as well have been jaywalking. Of course, he didn't expect to be arrested for entering a restricted area (that he didn't know was forbidden), and it's not like they'd send him back to Earth, but they might dock his pay!

Curtis shivered, though he didn't know whether it was from anger, sadness or both. He _needed _this money! It'd support him for a year once he got back! Even more if he spent wisely! All he could do was feel pathetic and wait for the hammer to fall. A few seconds later, someone picked up.

"Vincent, this is Sergeant Gabe Weller. Caught someone snooping around Mining – genetics mark him as 'Mason, C.' What do you want me to do with him?"

He stood there, head bowed and frustration brewing within him. _Damn it, why didn't someone tell me this was illegal or put up a sign!_

"Really, Weller? This shit again?" a female voice replied from the other end of the RIG-Link communicator. "If he wasn't doing anything, leave him alone. We have enough to deal with right now."

"Understood, Chief." The screen faded, leaving the two of them alone. It took his mind a second to catch up and realize that he, in fact, wasn't in trouble. Oh. In hindsight, perhaps he was a bit emotional, but, well, he'd never gotten so much as a traffic ticket before. The mining business was filled with tough people, and most assumed he was one, as well. If only they were correct. "Look, you're not technically supposed to be down here for another couple of days. How about you come back when everything's ready."

Curtis nodded, still trembling and not about to argue. "I'll see myself out," he weakly responded; it was difficult to see Weller's reaction as he was backlit by a harsh fluorescent light. Regardless, he plodded out of the room, less inclined to sociality than before. _Such friendly people._

"Wait a second," Weller called from behind him. "Don't really want to do this, but protocol requires me to give you my RIG number in case you have any questions." Yeah, fine. He added the number to his contacts and departed.

Beneath him, a million machines still rumbled.

…

Curtis originally worried he'd have difficulty locating the auditorium, but that turned out to be a non-issue. No, the trouble was finding a spot! Hundreds of men and women crowded around him, all chattering about the months ahead. They filled every available seat and a few more besides; the room was awash in noise. A single hour remained until their arrival in a far-flung star system!

He'd heard somewhere that the Ishimura's amphitheater could seat up to a third of its complement; that's probably how much of the crew were Unitologists, and there were of course people interested in the religion, like himself, as well as security. Honestly, he was shocked. Like, he knew Unitologists made up a good segment of the population, but not _this _much. More like 10 or 15 percent.

_Must be an anomaly, _he thought, spying two unclaimed seats at the end of a row, promptly taking one. Still, he wasn't complaining! Leaning back, he looked across the room. Crowded was how he liked things! Reminded him of seeing movies back home. So many happy, content people. A community. Or, again, he might just have been looking through rose-colored glasses. And was the religion's social aspect really enough to get him to change his entire life? _Stop worrying! You're here to learn and have a good time. Don't sweat the rest. Not yet._

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a beat-up leather-bound text that he'd bought at a used bookstore a few months back. It was a Unitologist hymnal that he decided to get in case he ever went to something like this. Sure, the songs were all available on the Transnet for free, but something seemed wrong about reading such spiritual words off a holo-screen. Supporting the local economy didn't hurt, either.

"Excuse me," a voice said over the crowd. Glancing to his left, he saw a balding man with a bushy beard staring intently at him. "Is this seat taken?" he asked, pointing at the other empty chair.

"No. You can sit," Curtis replied, and the man did just that. _Well, he's nicer than that guard from earlier._

Despite his politeness, something about him put Curtis on edge. Perhaps it was just nervousness left over from earlier, but something about him seemed… wrong. From beneath his prominent brows, his eyes scanned the room like a foraging wolf's. It was somehow more distracting than all the raucousness around him.

"That's a Second Edition Hymnal with gilded edges," the man commented, looking at the book on his lap. "You have very good taste."

"Thanks," he replied, warming up a little. Nobody had ever complimented his decorum before. _This guy's not so bad. _"It was the cheapest one at the place I bought it."

They shared a laugh over that, for a moment becoming part of the incredible din. "Then I suppose the _Marker _has very good taste for leading you to it! I myself prefer the Sixth Edition; that was the sole printing with large excerpts in the Marker's sacred script, poor and primitive though our imitation language might be." He paused, appearing to consider his words for a moment, before a sly smile spread across his face. "I happen to be privy to the Captain's announcement. Convergence is coming, brother."

And Curtis was back to being creeped out.

"OK," was all he could articulate. The man looked him over with a piercing gaze for a second more before striking up a conversation with someone in the row behind them. _Convergence, huh?_

As the centerpiece of their eschatology, he'd heard a lot about it. Sounded beautiful. It was the day every Unitologist dreamed of regardless of politics or level of practice. Supposedly, it would be an event where all of humanity would set aside their differences, become one and transcend to a higher state of being with the Marker's help.

That was the kicker, of course – they needed a Marker for it to happen, which made Curtis roll his eyes. The man was clearly delusional.

Now, the Black Marker existed. Nobody debated that; there was actual video evidence taken by Michael Altman himself. What exactly it _was_ and what it could do was where Unitologists differed from everyone else. But there hadn't been any sign of it for almost 300 years – probably destroyed long ago. Sure, maybe another would be located in the far future, but people had scoured the cosmos for lifetimes and never found a shred of evidence. How could that possibly change now?

Suddenly, the lights died down and the voices with them. Silence filled the once boisterous auditorium, broken only by the occasional cough. Then holograms of the Marker sprang up from wall-mounted projectors, bathing the chamber in a soft, white glow. _Wow, that's a nice touch._

"Please rise to greet one another in fellowship," a formless, genderless voice said from everywhere. Far less annoying than the usual shipboard so-called "AI".

He didn't have much to say, just shaking hands with a few people before returning to his seat. The other guy was already there, and Curtis decided to introduce himself regardless. _It's fine. Start with your name_. Pivoting toward him, he said, "I'm Curtis, by the way."

"Doctor Challus Mercer. Always a pleasure to meet a fellow believer." He didn't have the heart to tell him that he was actually an atheist, at least for the time being.

"Likewise." Quirks aside, the doctor seemed like a decent enough guy. Still, as he sat in the dark, his mind kept wandering to what he said – 'Convergence is coming.' Something in the words made it almost sound like a threat.

The nebulous voice appeared again. "Be seated as we give thanks to the Marker."

From there, the ceremony seemed standard enough (though he wouldn't really know) except for the "AI" announcing their ETA every few minutes. _Why do they call them artificial intelligence, anyway? _They weren't even sentient! Turned out that no matter how many computers you put together, regardless of their processing power, all you got was a computer with a lot of memory space. Silicon and wire didn't think like flesh and blood, but the term penned by ancient writers nevertheless remained.

First came a quick prayer, followed by a couple of hymns, until they reached the main service. Though Curtis tried to pay attention, anxiety built within him. The anticipation of seeing a whole new part of the universe built within him, drowning everything else. Half-an-hour, as the oh-so helpful voice was kind to point out.

Leg-shaking, he half-listened to the sermon: something about unity in the face of adversity that seemed aimed more at potential converts than anyone else, presented by numerous speakers. Other than a couple of mic problems, it was just fine. He thought it ended until the amorphous voice reminded them all of Captain Mathius' "special announcement". _Oh, right. _He forgot all about it. Probably some words of encouragement for the months to come. Unitologist or not, he could appreciate that.

Polite clapping went up as a tall man with fading patches of hair mounted the stage. He looked familiar; no doubt he'd had his face in the news plenty of times. Still, he imagined the CEC would have picked someone younger to lead such a strenuous mission.

A spotlight fell upon him, and he hesitated a moment for his vision to adjust. Even at this distance, Curtis could see him sweat.

"It gives me great pride," the Captain said, nearly shouted, "that there are so many believers among the Ishimura's fine crew. A few cheers went up, but he brushed them aside. "Faith is a difficult thing, after all – trusting in something you can't see. In our case, that's the Marker." A smile crept onto his face, and he paced the stage, the confused spotlight operator struggling to keep up. "I'm sure each of you knows someone who thinks you're crazy for those ideas.

_Where's he going with this? _The cynical part of Curtis wondered if Mathius had a bit too much to drink before getting up there.

After a long silence and more pacing, he stopped and began to speak again, donning a smug look. From the corner of his eye, Curtis saw Dr. Mercer had one, as well. _Convergence is coming._

"But no longer. Soon – very soon – Unitology will cease to be faith and begin to be _fact!_" A murmur spread through the crowd, and Curtis shivered.

_ **Convergence is coming.** _

Wildness burned in his eyes. "Brothers and sisters, we've found it. We've found a Marker!" Before anyone could react, an image sprang up behind him on the theater's massive holo-screen: gray rocks and mountains framed against a gloomy orange sky. In the middle was a shape that even he could have recognized in his sleep.

A rust-colored Marker.

Curtis had never heard such deafening silence. People may well have made noise, but the only sounds his brain processed were that of his heart and the blood in his own head. This… this must have been a prank of some kind! The Captain wanted to get a rise out of everyone! Even as he thought that, he knew he lied to himself. A Unitologist would never joke about such things, and the evidence was right in front of his face. But how was he, still a non-believer, to handle something that changed course of human history?

"We are de-shocking in ten minutes, ladies and gentlemen! Please consult your RIGs for more information."

Either the room exploded into chaos or the words made him aware of the celebration that already happened around him. People jumped for joy, threw themselves on the floor, hugged, kissed, screamed, cried and gave thanks to God.

_**CONVERGENCE IS COMING. **_The words were lightning his skull.

Despite all the religious ecstasy, Curtis remained numb. This wasn't his triumph. He didn't know how to feel. Happy that these people were happy? Sad that it appeared Unitology was the right religion, and he'd wasted his life not being part of it? Or afraid that nothing would ever be the same again? At that moment, he leaned toward the last. Oddly, the only other person he saw to lack this zealous attitude sat right next to him.

"I wish we could be like them," Mercer shouted over the din, "caught in the throes of righteous bliss! That's something I've never been able to experience!" Even if he wanted to respond, Curtis was mute with awe.

The Captain bowed and left the stage. As if beckoned by an invisible hand, the throng suddenly swarmed toward the exit, no doubt wanting to both share the good news with their shipmates and gaze upon the planet that would usher in the Golden Age of man. Shakily pocketing his hymnal, he noticed Mercer had disappeared.

He joined the believers as they surged down the hall and toward any windows they could find, still a howling typhoon. Curtis was accustomed to being assertive when it came to crowds, but here, he was nothing but a ping-pong ball being bounced around. With the sheer amount of noise they produced, the entire ship would know what happened by the time they de-shocked. Being jostled so much normally would have agitated him, yet the apathy remained.

The crowd petered out after a few minutes as the faithful rushed off in all directions to inform friends and colleagues of the discovery… or perhaps rub it in their faces. Though that could have been accomplished via RIG-Link, this was something unique.

Lethargically, he dragged himself through the halls, his anesthesia slowly wearing off. _Wow, _he finally managed to think. Earth-shaking, life-changing consequences would follow. The only thing that comforted him in that moment was his job. Marker or not, he still had a planet to crack. And he wanted to see what he was up against.

Therefore, Curtis located a reasonably-sized window in an out-of-the-way alcove with only a few other people standing around, all eagerly chatting about the Marker. Outlined against the green-blue light, it almost looked like a club.

"I heard it'll let us crush our enemies!" one woman cheerfully exclaimed.

"We'll be able to destroy EarthGov with its help!" another man chimed in.

_Uh, right. _The more… _militant _flavor of Unitologist bothered him, and he'd met a few. He didn't think that was what Altman's writings reflected, but he supposed he wouldn't know. Still, Unitologists enthusiastically calling for the government's overthrow reflected badly on the whole faith.

"Let's not get carried away," a familiar voice said from his right. Looking over, he spied the massive man who directed him to Medical just hours before. "We don't know what the Marker will do, but I believe it will be above caring about petty politics or revenge." They ignored him, continuing to talk amongst themselves, and he slowly shook his head.

Curtis felt bad. Not just about brushing him off earlier, but also for how these people treated him. "Thanks for helping me out earlier," he said while pointing to the former gash on his forehead, which completely scabbed over by now. It took a moment, but a dim flash of recognition lit in his eyes.

A smirk crossed his face. "It was rather amusing, if you don't mind me saying so. I thought you'd notice the wall before you walked into it." Ouch. "As for the help… it's what any good Unitologist would do." He raised his voice during the last sentence, yet it had no effect on the group beside them. "Also, I'm Samuel Irons. Engineer."

"Curtis Mason. Miner." They shook hands, and Curtis winced at the strength of Irons' crushing grip.

"Sorry. Sometimes I forget my own power." He paused. "If you don't mind my asking, are you a believer?" he asked, pointing at Marker necklace he wore. "Since you're here, I assume you came from the service."

How to possibly answer that? "No," he responded, staring into the void. "Not yet. Though after all this… I might be." Again, he trembled, scarcely believing his own words. Even if he did convert, he expected to actually study the religion, take notes, think about what impacts it would have on his life. But the Marker was _here. _It'd soon be on the ship! What other proof did he need?

Abruptly, the ship violently rumbled, eliciting a rather unmanly yelp from him. "Don't worry, that's normal. We're de-shocking."

The jade bubble popped, and the normal universe returned, appealing in its own way. At least they hadn't been vaporized; shockspace apparently did that once in a blue moon. Two blood-red suns burned thousands of miles away, bathing the dead, gray planet before them in eerie light. It was completely barren except for a large, luminous ring on its dark side, a couple hundred miles in diameter. _Must be the colony; it's built around the first chunk of Aegis VII we'll mine._

"Hello, everyone," a voice he recognized as Captain Mathius' said over the intercom. "This is the Captain speaking. By now, I'm sure you've all heard the rumors, and I'll confirm them. On this planet, Aegis VII, a Marker has been discovered. We'll soon bring it aboard." Curtis heard cheers and shouts echo down the hall. Hopefully these people wouldn't get too riled up over the thing. He understood how important it was, but somebody would get hurt if they didn't calm down.

After a pause, Mathius continued. "Because of the monumental nature of this discovery, the CEC has elected to take some… precautions. Ever since the artifact was recovered three weeks ago, outbound Relaynet transmissions have been heavily monitored. Nothing related to it got out." Concerns of censorship aside, Curtis understood. If the news reached humanity at large, there would be chaos. Never mind the couple thousand people aboard, rowdy as they were – he couldn't imagine the riots that'd break out across the galaxy if this broke without careful consideration. It'd be akin to unexpectedly announcing the discovery of alien life.

"Furthermore, both Aegis VII's and the Ishimura's Relaynets were disabled immediately prior to my announcement. Nothing gets in, and nothing gets out." The cheers that had just filled the halls turned to groans and boos. It meant that everyone would be cut off from their friends and family for the duration… but Curtis didn't have either of those, so he didn't particularly care. Sure, it'd make browsing the Transnet more limited, but he was certain the system's data cache had enough to keep him entertained. In fact, six months away from Earth might be a blessing.

The headlines got worse every day: natural disasters, political crises, random acts of violence. He hated waking up to it in the morning, and now he wouldn't. Even if the Marker turned out to be a crock of shit (which he now highly doubted), the mission already went better than expected.

"This is about more than religion, though. Even without such a historic find, Aegis VII is one of the most mineral-rich planets we've ever discovered. The resources gained from this mission could sate humanity for years. I know each of you will do your part to ensure the Ishimura returns to Earth with a full cargo hold. Now get some rest! There's only six days left until we pop the cork!"

The speech electrified him, driving the last of his hesitation a way. The Captain was right; with or without the Marker, this was of utmost importance. He couldn't let that distract him from his work… and once it started, he wouldn't have time to consider it, anyway. He'd never been so proud to be a miner. For once, it wasn't a dead-end job where he, a college drop-out, constantly struggled to make ends meet. Upon his return, he'd be heroic, rich, and maybe even famous! Oh, and he got to help humanity in the process, but that didn't matter so much.

"Ready to start work, Irons?" he teased.

"I'd like to begin now. The sooner we bring the holy relic to Earth, the better." He paused before adding, "Perhaps we should exchange RIG numbers. If you have any questions about Unitology, I'd be happy to answer them."

Sounded good to him! Better than adding that officer's data. As Curtis attached the string of numbers to his contact list, he gazed upon the slowly growing planet in the window, knowing that exciting things would start very, very soon.


	3. Evil Approaches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for returning, everyone. Halloween approaches, and the world becomes dark and gloomy (unless you live in the Southern Hemisphere), the perfect time for Dead Space. I’ll be honest; this chapter was a chore to write. It’s mostly set-up for the actual plot, but it’s unfortunately necessary for character development and such. The true excitement begins next time, and hopefully I’ll have that out by Halloween. The writing’s gone quicker than I expected.
> 
> As for plot details, this update relays events from the Marker being brought aboard the Ishimura to right before the outbreak, a time not very covered in the canon because of its lack of space zombies. I incorporated more obscure lore that probably no one cares about, and the characters all get closer together.
> 
> I want to explain the Shadow Man in more detail in case it confuses you. It (he?) is a character from Dead Space: Catalyst (probably the most obscure entry in the whole franchise), though very minor. I really liked the idea, though, so it’ll actually be a pretty major antagonist in Ordination. I’ll explain more as the story progresses. Like I said, the Necromorphs pop up next time. Also “spin” is the verb used to describe sending digital files to other locations, if that’s unclear.
> 
> One more thing! I’d like to thank KAZRIEL (especially you, dude!), JYX THE BERSERKER, BLAUORANGE, ZA FALCON, PUZZLEMASTER1998, DERPYSAUCE, TIGER2014 and NOTSAE (all on FanFiction) for your reviews, as well as ORTHODOX (you're awesome) for beta-reading. They really motivate me as an author; if you have any suggestions, criticisms or just want to say hello, it’d be awesome if you left one. Hope you all enjoy!

**USG Ishimura**

**5 Days Pre-Outbreak**

Curtis sat with Samuel on the Flight Deck along with virtually the entire crew. Somehow, they’d found a quiet, out-of-the-way corridor to talk while the celebration of the millennium took place a couple hundred meters away: momentous even from this distance. The Marker would soon be unloaded into Cargo Bay 4, and Captain Mathius would grant the population a few minutes to gaze upon the huge, possibly divine rock before it was sequestered into storage.

The two didn’t mind being among the last in line, though. If the vid logs were accurate, the thing was big. Really big. For now, though, Curtis took up Irons’ offer and questioned him about Unitology – but not the tenets or history or demographics. Important as these things were, they mattered little compared to the artifact a mere room away.

His mind was snatched away by the rumors already circulating. Something about violence on the colony, a no-fly order, the Captain barring anything from boarding the Ishimura save the Marker and corpses. Probably baseless spacer hearsay, but if they were true…

“So, how did you become a Unitologist?” he asked as Irons opened a pack of LemonGun candy he’d bought from a “Store”.

“I was born into it,” he replied, tossing one into his mouth. “My father and mother both believed. They passed that belief to me. I’m sorry I don’t have a more interesting conversion story for you.” Toying with the wrapper, which seemed pathetic in his massive hands, he held it out to Curtis. “Want some?”

“No, thanks.” Never cared much for sour candy; what was the point of sweets that weren’t sweet? “Then why did you stay one? Tradition? Peer pressure?” 

“For a time. But then I examined the evidence. I don’t believe humanity came about by chance. I mean, we’ve been a spacefaring species for generations, explored a good part of the galaxy. And in all that time, we’ve never found any evidence for alien life, not one single bacterium… except for the Marker. I don’t believe that’s a coincidence.” Wow. Curtis was honestly taken aback by the answer. Not that he considered the man stupid, it was just surprisingly introspective.

People tended to believe what their parents did, and not just regarding religion. While that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, it stunted independent thought in some ways. Merely something he noticed; he wasn’t a psychologist or at all qualified to contemplate such things. He certainly would have fallen into the same trap, only… well…

“What about you? Does your family have anyone in the Church?” Ah, there it was. Somehow, he knew the question approached. Its answer didn’t bother him too much anymore.

“I don’t have one,” he stated as matter-of-factly as he could. Irons’ expression softened, which sent a pang of frustration through him. He’d gotten along just fine in life without coddling, and he sure as Hell didn’t need anyone to say, “I’m sorry” now. “Never knew my parents. From my first memories, I was in a foster home. Hated it. Hated every single one. Grew up, went to college, dropped out after a semester of a ‘Flight and Cargo Manipulation’ major and decided to try my hand at mining. I never looked back.”

“That… must have been hard,” Irons replied. At least he didn’t apologize for something that wasn’t his fault.

“I managed.” Curtis felt himself crack a small smile. Just then, momentous cheering broke out down the hall. _They must be opening the doors. _That was a good enough conversation to start with. They needed to start somewhere, and he got a few questions out of the way. The main event began soon. “C’mon, let’s check out the rock.”

“Marker,” Irons playfully corrected.

“I guess we’ll see.”

…

Nicole waited among thousands of others. Nearly every person whose work wasn’t required to keep the ship online stood in that room. Fortunately, it was a big room.

_Marker, huh? _she thought, wanting to shake her head and scoff at the whole thing.

But she saw the vid logs from the colony like everyone else. The thing they found was the spitting image of the Black Marker, only this one was a different color. Denying it would be foolish. “Red Marker”, she’d already heard the thing dubbed. She didn’t have an answer. It might have been a bizarre natural phenomenon or perhaps a very elaborate hoax. Even as the skeptic in her struggled to find solutions, the scientist had surrendered. 

The Black Marker itself wasn’t too convincing a story. There was vid footage, yes, but most was grainy and dark, having supposedly been filmed in some underwater research facility. What’s more, nobody who actually saw it survived save Michael Altman himself… and even he died shortly after. Hardly enough to build an entire religion on.

This was another beast entirely. With very high-quality images, hundreds of eyewitness testimonies and preliminary tests already complete, there was no doubt. This was a genuine alien artifact. The thought nearly made her collapse. Her whole life, she’d been told there were no extraterrestrials, how they would have been found by now if they existed! She wished her college biology professors were there both so they could see this and so she could chew them out for being so wrong.

That it was alien certainly didn’t mean it possessed magic powers or could raise the dead or unite the galaxy or whatever Unitologists thought, but it didn’t really matter. The mere fact a non-human civilization at one point existed and had been to Earth would change humanity forever. And the notion terrified her.

Everything they knew would just be… gone. What fundamental truths would have to be rebuilt from scratch? How many generations would it take? As a woman of science, it almost made her want to give up or weep. What was the point anymore? From the carvings on its surface, it obviously functioned as some sort of codex. What fields of study would its incredible science rewrite overnight? Would everything she worked for be in vain if the obelisk contained, say, the information to cure cancer?

It was incredibly selfish, she realized. This was a major leap forward for mankind, something to be celebrated! The Unitologists were the most reasonable ones here! _Never thought I’d see that, _she thought, managing to summon a shred of humor in the humbling situation. So much could be gleaned from this. Even if it made her obsolete, wasn’t advancement worth that cost? She didn’t know and lacked time to ponder.

There was another thing that pissed her off, though, one she’d bend the Captain’s ear about, maybe go above him! They screwed her boyfriend out of a job! Now the number of Unitologists on board made more sense – who better to move a Marker? Unfortunately, it likely cost Isaac his spot! Not that she could blame most of them for that, but she’d sure as Hell make Mathius answer for his religious discrimination.

Before her, the shuttle’s cargo hatch opened, and a contingent of security personnel approached. Though the angle was such that the crowd couldn’t see inside, the looks on guards’ faces confirmed her fears. Sighing, she resigned herself.

The whole crowd (or so it seemed to her) cheered as a loading platform was pushed up the craft’s ramp. Minutes passed, but they seemed like seconds.

There it was. The cheer crescendoed into a roar as the menhir emerged, a two-pronged horn whose existence she used to deny. But here it was, and it humbled her. It stood twenty or thirty feet high and was the color of both blood and the twin suns illuminating Aegis VII. It took her breath away. There was an incredible power in it, practically calling to her – to all of them!

Many Unitologists responded to that call, falling to their knees or bowing in reverence, worshiping their God. In that moment, she almost understood.

This thing was obviously just a rock, but it emitted an aura of stunning grandeur. If she didn’t know better, perhaps she _would_think it divine! _Didn’t do those people on the colony any good, though. _She hadn’t heard anything concrete, but the rumors were grim. Apparently, strange things began once they found it. Violent things. _Wouldn’t have let that happen if it was God. _Now Captain Mathius wanted to quarantine the ship in case whatever plagued them spread. She wouldn’t bother asking for the truth – it would come out soon enough – yet if it was accurate, she’d be willing to share medical supplies. They had plenty to go around.

A buzzing split the air, so high-pitched that she barely heard it. Did it come from the ship? The Marker? She stole a final look at the monolith as she slid through the ravenous crowd, surprisingly resentful. _No! Don’t be like them. It’s stupid to be mad at a big fucking rock._

**4 Days Pre-Outbreak**

Curtis ran. He didn’t know from what.

All he understood was that evil dogged his steps, its feet grotesquely slapping on metal. The once-bright halls now bathed in blood-red emergency light, as well as actual blood. His lungs burned trying to process the foul air. Snarls erupted from behind him. Then he was down, grabbed by unseen hands, screaming all for naught.

From there, it became less coherent. Bone. Sinew. Rending. Snapping. Pain. It continued for a long while.

…

Curtis slowly stirred; his sheets were drenched in sweat. Last night was rough.He wasn’t normally prone to nightmares, but they attacked in full force… just like those weird monsters. _I need a shower. _Calm came soon after. The dreams may have been scary and painful, but they were just that – dreams. _Spooky monsters, though._

Checking the time, he saw it was… well, actually time didn’t matter up here. Technically, they were on Local Standard Time (what time it was on the colony), but in practice, it was a free-for-all, considering work hadn’t started yet. People would pretty much run rampant for the next four days, especially considering their new cargo; many still hadn’t calmed down about it.

He fumbled in the dark before locating his RIG, accidentally activating a few of its functions as he slipped it on. “No, shut the fuck up,” he muttered, hardly noticing that he only made the situation worse. Probably should have gotten out of bed before putting on the clothes with integrated electronics, but he lacked the foresight most people –

“Hello? Who’s there? What do you want?”

Curtis whipped his head around, trying to find the mystery voice, before realizing he’d accidently spun somebody an audio log – what the inhabitants of ancient days dubbed “butt dialing”. This normally wouldn’t have been a big deal, but his stomach dropped when he saw the name on the RIG-Link: Gabe Weller. 

“Oh shit! Sorry!” His heart pounded as he mashed buttons, trying to hang up. Really didn’t want to irk someone who almost threw him in the brig! Instead, he switched it over to vid mode, and his little chamber was muddled with dull illumination. The man sat in bed, rubbing his eyes at the sudden influx of light.

“Sorry, officer,” Curtis whispered, trying to keep the contempt from his voice; by this point, several others outside grumbled at him to quiet down. “Must have hit your contact info by mistake.”

“Be more careful next time. Some people are trying to sleep,” he grunted, running a hand through his short hair.

“Yes, sir.”

As he moved his hand to end the call, Weller interrupted, “It’s fine. Wasn’t sleeping too well, anyway.”

“Neither was I.” Both remained quiet for a moment. “Well… goodbye.”

“Yeah. Bye.” He disconnected, and Curtis sighed. Could have gone worse, he supposed. _That’s one way to wake me up. _The monstrous dreams having receded into his mind’s depths, he finished donning his RIG and rolled out of bed.

…

Nicole flipped through the pages of some old issues of _Eon News_that came with her office, counting the minutes until her shift began. She’d have _a lot _of time to get acquainted with them, considering the Transnet would be unavailable for the next six months.

_I hope Isaac doesn’t worry about me_. She was in the middle of talking with him when the Captain shut down the ship’s Relaynet. _I thanked him for making me take this risk. Said it would be for both our goods. _Snorting, she tossed the magazine into the trash. Neither of them could have known about the Marker, obviously, or the lengths to which the CEC would go to keep it secret. No doubt the company would make a press release about “space weather” or “anomalous shockspace behavior” precluding contact for the duration to cover its ass, but the thought of not being able to speak with him for so long…

_Fuck it. I need to get out there. _Even if they’d been together for two years, she was a doctor first. The ship needed her, and she needed to trust that the CEC and Captain Mathius knew the best course of action. _Besides, his job with the company in Moscow should keep his mind off me. _Doubts remained nonetheless.

Striding into the spotless Med Bay, she saw several people sitting in chairs waiting to be helped. Just by glancing at them, though, seeing the frightful expressions on their faces, she knew why they came.

“Ah, Dr. Brennan,” her assistant, Perry, called out as he approached. “I was just coming to get you. Let’s walk and talk.”

“More cases?” she asked as they walked toward the psych ward, leafing through a stack of files from him, to which he nodded. She was old-fashioned like that, preferring pen and paper to keypad and holo-screen. They had electronic backups, but something about a physical copy made her work quicker… which they needed right now. “How many?”

“Over a dozen in the last few hours. It’s early, but it seems to be the same illness that’s affecting the colony.” His voice wavered, and as much as she wanted to reassure him… she couldn’t.

_Oh God. _She’d finally seen the planetside footage and imagery, the things Mathius didn’t want circulating among the ordinary crew. The rumors were true, and they began to leak. Nightmare stuff: murder, mutilation, cannibalism and more. Mere hours ago, 50 people blew their brains out in the middle of Union Square. 

“I’ve known you for a while, Perry, and I’ll be honest. I’ve never seen anything like this in my entire career.” Though it may not have been politically correct, she was tempted to blame Unitology – this insanity began after the Marker was found, and a disproportionate number of those affected were members. However, even _they _weren’t crazy enough to murder people in the streets.

Faint screaming reached them from somewhere up the hall. “No, not again,” Perry muttered before punching something into his RIG. “Sounds like either Harris or Leggio woke up! Someone get over there and sedate them before they kill themselves!”

“You could have called, you know!” she exclaimed after he hung up, grabbing his shoulder as they neared their destination. Her face burned with indignation; somebody should have gotten her in earlier! “I wouldn’t have minded working a couple extra hours if things were this bad!”

Perry paused and turned around, not meeting her gaze. “I’m – I’m sorry, boss. I would have, but… well, this is going to get worse before it gets better. We both know that. I figured you’d be happier with a little more energy later rather than earlier.” 

It at least made sense, and her enmity cooled somewhat. “It’s fine, Perry. Nobody’s dead yet.” She shuddered at the notion that that needed to be considered an accomplishment. While still opposed to the Captain’s no-fly order, it started to make more sense. Evacuating the colony would only let the chaos spread faster. “We have to keep it that way.”

They arrived at a padded door right as Nicole looked through the last of the files. All detailed similar symptoms: depression, hearing voices, and general feelings of dread. It sounded like acute dementia or schizophrenia… except all these people were mentally sound until yesterday. _Until the Marker got brought aboard. Hmm. _That couldn’t have been the cause, though. Tests showed the thing was harmless – it threw off mild electromagnetic fields, sure, but nothing dangerous. _Then why?_

She didn’t know what to expect beyond the door but doubted it was good. Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open.

Three men surrounded a fourth, lying unconscious and strapped to a table. _Brant Harris, _she thought, having just seen his notes. Killed a nurse on the colony in cold blood. Didn’t seem remorseful. The amount of sedative it took to keep him comatose would have worked just as well on a now-extinct elephant. Those were the highlights, very similar to those of one Hans Leggio in the room over.

The three around him were doctors whose strength and expertise she knew she’d need to rely on in the coming days: Dr. Warwick, the Chief Psych Officer, Dr. Kyne, the Chief Science Officer, and her second-in-command of general medicine, Dr. Mercer.

“Dr. Brennan! Thank goodness you’re here!” Kyne exclaimed. “Never in my life have I seen a patient fight through so many tranquilizers!”

“Wait, is he still awake?!” That was physically impossible! Either somebody got the dosage wrong, or… she couldn’t come up with an alternative. He didn’t need to answer that question, as Harris muttered some unintelligible words, occasionally twitching. The skin around his wrist and ankle restraints had rubbed away, revealing muscle underneath.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Mercer observed. That was certainly one word to describe it. “I recommend we take Mr. Harris off the drugs and allow him to recover. We have a few holding cells.” Not a bad idea at the moment, but if the projections held, they’d need more than a few.

“No. Keep him under for now. Use as many tranqs as we can spare.” Mercer glowered at her for a moment before turning away. “In the meantime, I’ll see if I can find any physical anomalies. Dr. Warwick, I’d like a full psych report.” To be honest, she mostly tuned out his observations about the various mental anomalies. She mostly just needed something to distract her from Harris’ moaning.

The resistance to sedatives seemed to have been caused by a massive change in his metabolism; his heart rate was 110 BPM _while nearly unconscious. _If he was fully awake, it’d be somewhere near 200 BPM, she guessed. Other than that, the most concerning aspect was leukocyte count. There were far fewer white blood cells than there should have been, with eosinophils being completely absent. Bizarre. She almost would have suspected AIDS, but HIV had long ago been eradicated.

“Frankly, I have no idea what’s going on, but get the room sterilized.” The words pained her to say as a doctor, but she didn’t want to hurt the man more, murderer though he might be. “Let’s leave him be for a few more days; if this disease spreads, we’ll want to know what the advanced symptoms are. And if things get _really _bad, put him in cryo. We can have somebody look at him once we get back to Earth.” She shuddered, and her mind already raced trying to crunch numbers and discern logistics. If this got worse, they simply didn’t have the resources to deal with it. They might even have to call off the crack. _What a disaster that’d be._

Much as she wanted to stay with this man, she had other patients who needed attending. However, he was valuable (and dangerous) enough to require a personal “assistant”. “Dr. Mercer, stay on Harris for now. He’s our Patient Zero. Anything changes, you tell me.”

“Of course, Dr. Brennan,” he said, looking at her almost hungrily.

_Creep. _Again, she was tempted to blame Unitology, but she knew how unfair that was. Kyne was one, too, and he seemed a good man from what little she knew of him. Maybe more of Isaac’s antipathy rubbed off on her than she thought.

Exchanging nods, they all got back to work.

**3 Days Pre-Outbreak**

Nicole trembled. Sharp metal protrusions dug into her from all sides as she hid in the back of a locker… but that was better than walking out and getting torn to shreds.

Monsters stalked the halls, murdering everyone in sight. _Perry… I’m sorry. _She could only watch as one of the things plunged its blades into his back and dragged him away, screaming her name.

Hot, salty tears poured down her face. There was nothing she could do but wait. At least she was safe from the creatures here, though. Better to die of dehydration than be hacked to pieces.

A scraping noise approached: the sound of bone against metal. One was coming. Covering her mouth, she shrank back, hardly caring that a nail or screw punctured her flesh. It got closer… closer.

Closer…

Then it stopped. And it growled.

A blade plunged through the metal, tearing a gash in the locker’s door. Her mouth was so dry that she couldn’t even scream. Desperate, she relied purely on instinct, kicking the door as hard as she could from her own side to knock it away. Big mistake.

An electric _crack _shot through her ankle, and she managed a weak vocalization of pain, more like that of a dying deer than anything else. Appropriate. With a broken foot, she sealed her fate. She did manage to open the door, though, which the monster ripped all the way open, allowing her a better look at it. Even in the dark red emergency lighting, the recognition was instant.

“Perry!” she shouted, in both joy and horror. Maybe she could reason with her friend, convince him to –

Without hesitation, he lopped off her head.

…

“Are you OK, my friend?” Irons asked Curtis as they sat in the mess hall together. Did he _look _OK? Did anyone?! The last couple of days had been Hell! People walked around in trances, shambling like zombies. An atmosphere of dread hung over everything, sucking the life from people. He’d never felt anything like it. And that damn droning! One of the intercoms must have been broken, because there was this fucking piercing whine that he couldn’t keep out! Fuck no, he wasn’t OK!

The only reason he didn’t lash out was because of those two last words. Nobody in a very long time had referred to him as a friend. It mesmerized him enough to be satisfied with saying, “No.”

“I admit, I don’t feel my best, either. But we’re here to talk more about Unitology, are we not?” Oh, right. Curtis completely forgot about that.

With the Marker’s discovery, people stepped forward to convert by the dozens. Perhaps, he thought, he should join them. But he wasn’t ready. He didn’t have questions for Irons anymore. All he wanted to do was… he didn’t know what. Again, how could he be a skeptic when he saw the proof with his own eyes?

“Yeah. So, are you bothered by all the stuff about Unitology in the news? It’s rarely anything good.”

Samuel’s face darkened, and he worried he’d offended the man. “I am. We have an unfortunate history of attracting rebels, dissidents. You heard those people when we de-shocked. Too many of our number join out of petty, personal reasons. That’d be fine if they learned and grew in their faith… but most are content to languish. Of course, they tend to play up the sensational aspects. There are disturbed people everywhere in this day and age, not just with us.”

“You’re a really smart guy, Irons,” he said, which made the large man chuckle, practically shaking the table they sat at.

“Don’t flatter me. I’m just a man trying to make sense out of this crazy universe. Still, I’m happy to be of service.” And that was it. Something clicked for Curtis… or maybe it already did, and he just now realized it.

“I’m going to convert,” he blurted out, the enthusiasm of it taking them both aback. Another surge of pain shot through his skull. “But not today. I don’t feel great. Tomorrow, maybe?”

“That’s fantastic,” Irons said through gritted teeth, reeling from the same pain. Looking around through bleary vision, he saw it affected everyone in the room; they all held their heads and groaned. This was really goddamn weird.

The agony faded a moment later, but the buzzing remained. “You hear that, right?” While he didn’t want anyone else to experience the damnable, maddening noise, it’d be nice to know that he wasn’t going insane.

“Yes, I hear it.” They continued with their once-frozen rations supplemented by fresh Ishimura Farms fruit. He couldn’t even taste it; his tongue was sandpaper. All focused on were the people, automatons that they were, and the fucking noise. All the noise, noise, _noise, noise, **noise, noise!**_

“Noise! Noise!” someone screamed, knocking him over. Curtis’ vision swam as he tried to fight off his assailant. Sure, he’d been in a couple shipboard brawls before, but not with a crazy ambusher who, as far as he knew, tried to kill him!

He wanted to call for help, but the words stuck in his throat. No need to, though. Shouting erupted around him, and he specifically heard Irons address his attacker. “What are you doing?! Stop!” Still fighting against the assailant, he felt hot blood trickle down his head again. His sight, already blurry, faded completely, and he was on the cusp of passing out. At least he’d fought the crazy person off.

“God, why would he do that to himself?” a distant voice asked.

“Seen it before. People are going nuts all over the ship.”

_It was me. Oh. _A split-second after that fact registered, he was out cold.

…

“Dr. Brennan?” someone asked from behind her, making her leap away and into a filing cabinet. She normally wasn’t a skittish person, but she was on edge, just like everyone else.

“Woah! Didn’t mean to startle you.” Her cloudy eyes took a second to focus on the man before her. Obviously from PCSI… what was he doing away from the patrol routes?

“What do you want?”

“I’m Sergeant Gabe Weller, ma’am. I’m the escort you asked for.”

_Did… did I request a guard? _Her mind was so fuzzy she couldn’t even remember. It was completely plausible given how chaotic the ship became. Nearly a quarter of the crew had appointments coming up… Warwick and his team couldn’t cope. If one of them snapped, she needed someone to defend her. “I see. Thank you, Mr. Weller.”

He shrugged. “Just doing my job.” While he tried to remain aloof, she suspected that he’d rather be out in the field, dealing with the skyrocketing crime.

The pounding in her head continued, making her stumble slightly as they approached the ER. _OK, what’s on the docket? _Her worst fears came to pass; just like on the colony, psychological problems evolved into full-blown violence. 21 hospitalizations in the past few hours. The only thing preventing her from going to the Captain and recommending they return to Earth was the fact that the colony seemed to have calmed for the moment. Whatever this strange, dangerous illness was, it seemed to burn itself out in a couple of weeks. After the mass suicide, there hadn’t been a single crime reported.

If they could hold out a little longer, she suspected (and dearly hoped) that things would return to normal and she could look back and eventually trivialize these days as “not so bad” in hindsight. Until then, she feared the worst was still to come. _First up, we have –_

She stopped dead in her tracks as she read aloud, “Curtis Mason.”

“What about him?” Weller asked, only adding to her confusion.

“You know him?”

“Miner, socially awkward, has a big scab on his forehead?” Sounded like he had a knack for getting himself into precarious situations if PCSI was familiar with him.

“That’s the one.” Damn, she didn’t want to deal with this pervert again… however, having a guard with her would surely help. And he wasn’t _that _bad compared to some of the more “aggressive” people she’d dealt with over the years. He’d gone crazy, too, nearly bashing his head open with a table. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Nicole’s heart sank as they passed the waiting room; a line weaved out the door, and it looked as if the unsteady calm might snap at the drop of a hat. Sighing, she spun an audio log to Perry. “Get Chief Vincent to send down more officers. We might need them.”

“I’ll see what I can do, boss, but things are tense everywhere. I don’t know how many she can spare.”

“Do what you can. Tell her that if there’s anarchy in Medical, things get worse for everyone.” God, she wished she could contact somebody on Earth, or maybe Venus Waypoint; they’d know what to do. The SMO was supposed to improvise, yet she felt herself drowning in stress. _No. They need you, Nicole. You can’t give in like everyone else. _Finally, they reached his room, and she entered while Weller remained outside.

Curtis moaned in pain on a table like dozens of others. His head wound was reopened, and it looked significantly worse, though Somatic Gel had already been applied; that’d stunt infection even with a compromised immune system. A large man sat beside him, possibly his friend. _Surprised he has any._

“Can you tell me more about what happened to him, Mr…?” she asked, already starting the check-up; many more of these to go, and she was certain his results would be the same as all others.

“Irons. We were eating in the mess hall when he started screaming and bashing his head into the table. I stopped him as quickly as I could, but I wasn’t fast enough.” Sighing, he put his head in his hands. “I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

“You did good, Irons. Without you, he might have died.” That perked him up a bit. And speaking of perking up, Curtis began to do the same, his pained groans becoming more coherent.

“Did… did I do this to myself?” he asked, taking in his surroundings. His eyes were bloodshot, something she just then realized held true for everyone she’d seen that day. No one slept well as of late. She hypothesized it was a vicious cycle; violence led to nightmares which led to sleep deprivation which led to more violence.

“Yes, you did.” His eyes fell upon her, and he cringed.

“Dr. Brennan. Um, thank you. Did… I hurt anyone else?” The words caught her off guard. She didn’t expect him to be concerned about such a thing. Of course, he could merely have been posturing or wondering whether anybody would sue, yet his tone carried genuine concern.

“You’re welcome, and I think you clocked your friend in the jaw, but he’s all right.”

Just then, Weller barged in and interrupted, “I heard you wanted more guards here, so I backed your assistant up. Vincent’s sending another squad down right now.”

“Thanks, Weller.” The man knew his shit. Curtis looked dumbfounded by this new development. Kind of embarrassing that this guy knew more people than her, but then again, she didn’t have time to pal around with the entire crew. All he could do was nod in acknowledgment, which Gabe returned. “You should be OK, though. Just in case, I’m prescribing some antipsychotics from the Assurance pharmacy. Call the front desk if anything goes wrong.”

The part she left unsaid was that they might not be able to help him if anything did.

“Thank you.” He looked away, struggling for a moment, before saying, “I apologize for acting the way I did when we first met. It was wrong.”

Wow. She didn’t expect that, either; neither did the other two men, who looked confused. Maybe Curtis was less of a cad than she thought, or maybe he was merely aware of the power she wielded. It didn’t really matter. “I forgive you.” Those three words cleared the room’s atmosphere, even with the general aura of dread that hung over all.

“In that case, I’ll get out of your way.” Hopping out of bed, Curtis dusted himself off. “Good luck; I don’t know what’s happening out there, but people need you.” She realized he tried to be encouraging, but that reminder – that the ship’s safety hung by a thread – was anything but comforting.

“I know.”

**2 Days Pre-Outbreak**

The Marker loomed before Curtis. Impossibly large, it filled the entire burning sky. He shambled toward it in awe, his mind no longer his own. _It’s glorious, _he thought. He felt eyes on him as he approached: eyes as red as the two setting suns.

A strong wind whipped up as he approached the base which buffeted him with course dust, stinging his exposed flesh, but he hardly cared. The Marker’s symbols glowed blue-green, reminding him of shockspace. Finally, he was there. It towered taller than the tallest buildings, stretching into the stratosphere. It wasn’t just a marvel of engineering. Soon it would be his God.

For all its grandeur, though, something was missing. It needed one more component to be completed. _What could it be? Hmm…_

“You,” a cold voice whispered. A silhouette shambled out from the Marker’s umbrage. No, that word didn’t do it justice. It was less of an outline and more a tear in space, a humanoid hole in reality.

A Shadow Man.

“It needs you, Curtis: your flesh and your blood and your bone. You’re so close to giving it those things. One final effort is all that remains.” The words should have been horrific, him surrendering his life to this unliving edifice, yet something in them practically seduced him. They might have worked were it not for the Shadow Man itself. Didn’t exactly look trustworthy. If it’d been anyone else, however… he might not have possessed the strength to resist.

“But I want to live,” he said. The creature somehow scowled at him but ultimately shrank back into the Marker’s shade. Growing sleepy, he stumbled back the way he came.

…

Nicole didn’t get much sleep, instead kept awake by stimulants and sense of duty. Hard to rest with so much shit going on… and the ringing in her skull didn’t help. The “good” news was that the situation stabilized. Injured and psychotic people still came, and a couple had even killed themselves, but the numbers more or less plateaued over the past several hours. If it stayed that way, they might have a chance. “Maybe today will be better,” she casually remarked.

Weller didn’t seem convinced. “Doubt it.”

“Why?”

“Just a feeling. But then again, instinct is why I’m still alive. I fought in the last days of the Resource Wars – Scorpio VI, in particular. It’s the calm before the storm.” Much as she wanted to dismiss his concerns as an old soldier’s superstitions, something in them seemed… eerily accurate. Strange energy hung as humidity in the air, electric and pulsing, along with the omnipresent hum. Maybe things weren’t exactly what they –

_Oh, come on! You’re a doctor, damn it! _she thought as they arrived at their first stop. _You sound like a Unitologist, actually entertaining this nonsense. _Of course, the “nonsense” killed and drove people mad. Bullshit or not, she’d tread carefully.

She decided to go in alphabetical order to make things easier on herself, so they entered the room of “Arnold-Fernandez, D.” Nice woman. Quite pregnant. _That _interested Nicole because of how unusual it was. She and Isaac would probably never have a child, though if they did, it would be via artificial uterus like most people; why bow to nature when they could surpass it? But she digressed.

“Ms. Arnold-Feranadez, how are you… today…”

The sight before Nicole nearly made her faint.

The woman hung from the rafters by a fraying cable, eyes bulging out and mouth locked in a silent scream. She’d seen dead people before, of course, and this didn’t come as a huge surprise given the other suicides. No, the motionless bump in her stomach made it all the worse for her. Try as she might, she couldn’t look away!

Weller took it even harder, stepping out and gagging in the hall.

After far longer than it should have taken, she tore herself away from the macabre, horrifying scene, a shudder running through her. Sometimes not being terrified by such things made her regret becoming a doctor; it desensitized her too much. Regardless, the pathologist would have another busy night.

Gabe shivered on the floor as she spun Dr. Domuss an audio log. “Glenda? There’s another one. Arnold-Fernandez,” she said with as much calm as she could muster.

“She was pregnant, right?” the voice at the other end replied. Nicole’s silence was answer enough. “I hope Mathius is happy with himself, bringing us to this fucked-up planet and getting people killed.” Sighing, all was quiet for a moment except Weller’s heavy breathing. “Fine. I’ll send someone to get her soon. I still have to finish autopsies on those murders from planetside, and then those suicides if Mathius and Carthusia ever get their heads out of their collective ass. Just… fuck all of this.”

“Agreed.” She hung up and turned to Weller, who struggled to compose himself. Their eyes met as she offered him a hand. “Hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that would spook you so much.” It confused her that a dead civilian would shake a former soldier to his core, yet she wasn’t about to ask why.

“It – it’s fine,” he coughed, reining himself in. “Suicide’s a touchy subject for me is all.”

No kidding. For a moment, Nicole was very, _very_tempted to break her atheism and pray to the stupid rock over in cargo for this all to get better; nothing to lose by trying. But practicality won out. Every second she spent doing that could have been dedicated to actually helping. “This might sound cold, but we need to go. There’s nothing we can do here. Better to pack up and move to the next one.”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

They set off, Nicole wondering in horror how many other they’d find the same way.

…

The march to the Church of Unitology shipboard headquarters took just short of forever. Curtis was nervous, elated, and alone. That was the way it should have been.

Samuel offered to accompany him, but he turned him down. Fellowship would come later; this was one path he needed to walk alone. He’d do it, sit a while, ponder his place in the universe and how his life would change, maybe cry, and then get ready for the planet crack.

This was a part of the Crew Deck he’d never before visited, and it was completely empty. Nearly all the staff had settled into their normal routines by this point (hopefully more activity halted the spreading paranoia). Only miners remained inactive, and a good number of them were still hospitalized with injury, madness or both. _Thank Altman I got out of there. _He didn’t want to be in bed when the work began. This was the job of a lifetime! _I’ll pray for them once I get this done with. That’ll take some getting used to._

The buzzing that plagued him over the past days idled here, as well. Only now it was almost like voices or whispering at the very edge of his hearing. Perhaps a quiet conversation happened nearby. It wouldn’t have unnerved him so much except he couldn’t tell where the noise came from. In front, behind, above, below… everywhere. After hurting himself, he was more alert and jumpier.

Agitated, he pressed on. The whisper grew the further he walked, still unintelligible despite its greater volume. _What the Hell? _He was being watched, making him pick up the pace. Posters sporting Unitologist script appeared on the wall a moment later, which calmed him a little. _Must be almost there._

That optimistic mood changed the deeper he went. Graffiti and crude artwork coated the walls and ceiling, blending together and practically leaping out at him. “What is this?” he said aloud, breaking into a run. The lights went out for a moment, replaced by red emergency ones. Because of that, the graffiti turned to blood. The whispers grew to chattering, and then excited roars as his pursuers approached. Without seeing them, Curtis knew they were the monsters from his nightmares.

“This can’t be real! This isn’t real!” he screamed, sprinting now. His lungs burned and the world around him blurred as he ran faster than he ever thought he could, chaotic symbols becoming a swath of red that covered everything. But it wasn’t fast enough. The monsters closed in. “This isn’t real!” he yelled again. A muscle spasmed in his leg, and he went down.

The wind got knocked out of him, but he didn’t feel anything tear or break. Not that it mattered, considering he’d be dead in moments. His crappy life flashed before his eyes; nothing and nobody he’d miss or would miss him, at least.

Curling into a ball, Curtis waited for the end. And waited. And waited. He was so scared, trembling and retching, that it took a couple minutes to register that the roaring was gone, replaced by the familiar rumble of air filtration systems. Opening his eyes, he saw everything had returned to normal. No blood, no monsters and no graffiti. Then he gasped.

He was at a dead end; the hall before him terminated at an airlock. A couple more seconds and he would have barreled into it at full speed and, though unlikely, possibly have gotten sucked into space! Realizing how close he came to death, Curtis sat up and vomited all over the floor. _I almost killed myself, _he thought through tears. What was happening?! Why was he going mad?! It almost comforted him that everyone else was, too, for he didn’t want to die alone. _Can’t do anything by yourself can you, you worthless trash? _He was at the end of his rope; if the antipsychotics Dr. Brennan prescribed him didn’t kick in soon, he was good as dead.

Minutes later, he dragged himself to his feet and slowly plodded down the hall. Though absolutely exhausted, terror overrode that somewhat, kicking him into a strange hypervigilant mindset. Darting eyes scanned every crack and crevice; if anything else happened, he’d stand still, shut his eyes and not move a muscle. Less likely to kill himself that way.

He scraped along by degrees, finally reaching the Church headquarters… or so he thought. _This better be real. _Nothing seemed suspicious or hallucinatory about it, though; it was merely a nice lounge with soft jazz music and some Marker iconography scattered about. Not exactly Clogger-level frights. A woman worked a desk against the opposite wall. _Guess she’s the one I talk to? Eh, she’s kind of hot. _Flirting would have to wait, though; he wasn’t in the mood. _Also don’t want to hallucinate and hurt her. Better get this done. _God, if he _did _harm anyone else in his dementia… maybe he should get Dr. Brennan to put him in cryo.

“Hello,” he called as he approached. “I’d like to convert.” The words sounded surreal, but he suspected she’d heard them a lot in the past few days (or was as tired as everyone else), considering she didn’t offer any sort of congratulation. Instead, she merely pulled up a holo-screen and requested –

“Curtis Mason, Class 5 Miner, RIG number 492770.” Unfazed, she entered his information into the Ishimura’s systems.

“We’ll share this information with the Church at large upon our return. Normally, there’s a registration fee, but its being waived thanks to the Marker’s discovery. However, you’re still welcome to purchase the Tome of Unitology or Teachings of Altman boxed sets in either physical or digital…”

Curtis was already out the door, afraid of another violent outburst. Her wanting him to buy stuff didn’t help. Like Irons said, a good number of people only wanted to make money. The thought’s hypocrisy stung, considering that was one of his reasons for coming, but at least he didn’t hide behind a veneer of spirituality. And maybe the Church really _did _need the money; all the outreach it did couldn’t have been cheap. _Then maybe those billionaire CEOs in their ranks should fork a little more over so nobody else has to…_

Slowly, the hums and whispers returned, clawing at the edges of his senses. Not daring to continue, he found a corner, sat down and put his head between his knees. _Not going to look or move. Nope. Not doing it. _The susurrations increased. Actually, this might have been a good time to pray, something he hadn’t done since he was a child.

_Um, hi… God? Marker? You’re the same, but I don’t know which you prefer to be called._

Words crawled from the formless aether; they called his name, begging him to come.

_I haven’t done this in a long time, so I hope I’m doing everything right. Anyway, I’m in a tough situation here._

He heard footsteps, but not in the real world. Someone walked through his _mind_, bizarre as that sounded. And they were coming closer. Cold sweat poured down Curtis’ face. Was this happening to everyone?! How?! Why?!

_I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of prayers about this, but things are bad around here. I guess you can’t go insane, being stone, but everyone else is._

“Curtis. Come to us,” a psychic voice spoke in both his mind and ears.

“Who are you?” he whispered back, voice trembling. He dreaded the answer… but none came. The entity, real or imagined, refused to identify itself.

_So, I would appreciate it if you helped us out in time for the planet crack. Thank you. I mean, um, amen._

The thing was still there. It practically burned through his eyelids, forcing itself upon him. At least it wasn’t one of the monsters, though. No, it seemed a more restrained form of evil. Inhaling deeply, he opened his eyes to greet it.

A living void squatted before him, cocking its head to one side like a curious scavenger. In fact, everything about it reminded Curtis of a vulture: pitch plumage trailing off, a hobbled posture, claws on its hands and feet. 

The Shadow Man.

It was almost too strange to frighten him. Almost.

“Wh-what are you doing here?! Go away! You shouldn’t exist!”

“Yet I do. Convergence is coming, Curtis. Make ready the way.” The thing vanished in a heartbeat, sucked into the Ishimura’s vents. And he was, yet again, alone.

**1 Day Pre-Outbreak**

The Marker loomed before Nicole. Impossibly large, it filled the entire burning sky. She shambled toward it in awe, her mind no longer her own. _It’s hideous, _she thought. She felt eyes on her as she approached: eyes as red as the two setting suns.

Struggling was worthless as she slowly shambled toward the obelisk. Besides, she was so tired. Maybe she’d sit against it and sleep a while. Just then, a man Nicole recognized stepped from the shadows.

“Isaac!” she shouted, wresting control from the invisible force and running toward him. How he arrived didn’t matter; seeing him again lifted her heart. He waved, and she leapt into his arms. “Isaac, I’m so glad you’re here! Things have been so bad lately, and people are dying and there’s nothing I can do.” She wept into his shoulder as he silently comforted her. God, she loved him so much.

“It’s good to see you, too, Nicole. I’m here to stop all your problems. You can help me.” Yes. Yes, that sounded wonderful! Isaac could fix anything, so it only made sense he’d be able to fix the Ishimura and what happened on it.

“Of course!” she exclaimed, pulling away slightly. “What do you need?”

“I need _you_, Nicole: your flesh and your blood and your bone. That will make it – us – whole.” On some level, she realized that sacrificing herself to this inanimate object was pointless and disgusting, but there was great power in the words. She very much wanted to obey them… and they came from the love of her life. Isaac must have known what he was doing. He always did. Therefore, she reluctantly agreed, overriding the part of her that knew this was evil.

“If it solves everything, I’ll do it.”

“We’ll do it,” he amended. Smiling, he took out a tool from his belt, which she recognized as a 935 Bonder Rivet Gun, and handed it to her. “Ladies first.”

Aw. He always was such a gentleman. Were it not for the dust buffeting her face, this actually would have been romantic.

_No! _part of her screamed, desperately trying to stop her, but it was powerless against the glorious purpose she needed to fulfill and the goading in her own head. A trillion trillion voices called out in unison from the Marker, telling her to do it. They wanted her to join them as another cell in their grand body. Her boyfriend handed her the tool, unfamiliar in her small hands; she’d never held any such engineering device before.

“It’s easy to use. Just point and shoot,” he reassured her, running a hand through her hair. “See you soon.”

“I love you,” she whispered, kissing him on the cheek, and he reciprocated with something better. Their lips pressed together, and the stubble on his face made it even better. The two years they’d spent together were about to end, yet she somehow knew an even better tomorrow waited just beyond the horizon.

She took a deep breath, and cold metal touched flesh as she put it against her throat

The last thing she saw was Isaac’s smiling face, framed against the Marker and the burning sky.

…

Well, this was it! Only one day remained until the planet crack! Walking down the hall, Curtis observed the sullen, sickly faces of those he passed. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel how they looked, but he decided he might as well _try _to enjoy what little time remained. 

The hallucinations made that difficult.

Everyone experienced them in some way by this point. People became either withdrawn or manic, and the Captain remained completely silent on the matter. He’d certainly make a speech before popping the cork, but it was highly unusual for him to remain silent for so long. _Maybe he has them worse than most. _He’d seen more than a few people speak to empty air. It must have talked back to them. He would have asked what about, but he had his own problems to contend with.

The Shadow Man dogged his steps, snaking in and out of reality like the specter it was. It barely said anything, content to stand in corners and grin as he passed. _They must be seeing different people or things than I am. _Better than being driven to violence, at least. Honestly, he welcomed the company. Irons had been pretty ill for the last few days, and he didn’t want to make friends with the crazy people… which was almost everyone by now. There’d be time for it later; like flirting, it wouldn’t be right when they already had so much to deal with. _I hope Dr. Brennan’s able to handle things._

Based on the fact Assurance reduced the number of pills in his prescription, probably not. Nobody would say, but it sounded like they were rationing. _Fuck, this could be bad. _If worst came to absolute worst, fifty shockpoint-enabled escape shuttles waited. That, at least, provided a little comfort. _And the CEC would probably still pay us all, if only to avoid the PR shitstorm of the decade._ This would be a nightmare for the company if not for the Marker. He certainly didn’t plan on working for them again.

The question was how to spend the next few hours. Streaming movies was boring, the theater hadn’t opened yet and all the clubs were cancelled because everyone felt so bad. He could think of only one activity to relieve his utter boredom: Z-Ball. Unfortunately, he required at least three other people to use the court. _And you don’t count, _he thought to the Shadow Man. _But you’re welcome to watch._

He reached the main lounge in a daze, though that didn’t mean much. The planet below looked spectacular as ever, though it couldn’t hold a candle to Earth. _Wish I was home in the North Carolina Hubs right now. The best food vendors come out at this time of year. A few fish actually come near the shore and they can sell real meat instead of textured soy. _Before he knew it, he lapsed into fond memories of home: skylines, buildings, locations, sensations. No people, though. At least not specific ones. He preferred them taken altogether instead of individually, which made what he was about to do all the stranger.

_Not sure I’ve ever hung out with such a small group. _Crowded parties and raves were more his style. Regardless, he activated some systems on his RIG and spun a vid log to Irons. It took a few rings, but he eventually picked up, looking like garbage. Then again, everyone did. “Hey, Sam,” he said, trying to figure out where the man was. The background didn’t look like anything he’d seen. “How are you?”

“Aside from the headaches, nausea and seeing dead relatives? Fine.” When he put it like that, things weren’t so great.

Brushing that aside, Curtis asked, “Want to play some Z-Ball? The court’s free, and it’d help us blow off steam.”

Irons pondered the offer. “It’s not a bad idea. I’m nearly done with my shift; have to finish calibrating the centrifuge.” Ah, so he was on the Engineering Deck. Made sense. The engines flared as he said that, and he barked some harshly worded orders to his subordinates. Wasn’t like him to swear, another sign of how things decayed. “Apologies. I’ll meet you at the rink in an hour. I’m afraid I don’t know anyone else feeling well enough to play. Also, how did the conversion go?”

_That’s right! _He never contacted Samuel after that! There’d be more time to discuss it later, but he deserved the short version. “Good, I think. Talked to somebody and got my membership spun over to me. I thought it would be harder.”

Irons sniffled, and for a moment Curtis thought he’d see the big man cry. He restrained himself, however, only letting out a few coughs. “I’m proud of you, brother. Really.”

“It’s fine, Sam.” He wasn’t used to sappy stuff, and Irons got the hint. “And there’s one more person I have in mind for the game. See you in an hour.” With that, he hung and leaned back to look at the giant gray orb again. _What about the other planets in this system? _It was Aegis _VII_, but he’d never heard anything about the six other planets. _Or maybe it’s a holdover from the old days; many star names have random numbers and letters in them. _That number would soon decrease by one.

He hesitated only a little before spinning a vid log to the only other person he knew. Hopefully he wouldn’t be miffed about –

“What the Hell do you want?” Weller asked right out the gate. At least he picked up. “I’m on duty.” If the Ishimura made everyone’s shifts public knowledge, that would have meant something, but he had no way to know that.

“Wanna play Z-Ball later?” The question was apparently so asinine that it made Gabe stop in his tracks. “I already have somebody, so you can bring someone else along and it’ll be two-on-two.” He remained silent a moment as a puzzled expression formed on his face. This clearly wasn’t something he often did.

“Fine. I get off soon, anyway.” Turning to his left, he said, “Dr. Brennan? Curtis Mason just called me up. Want to play Z-Ball after our shift?”

His stomach dropped. No, he didn’t want to deal with Nicole again. Though he apologized (and meant it… mostly), actually interacting with her would always be tainted by their first meeting. Still, he couldn’t exactly refuse – what a jerk he’d be. “Sure, I could use a break,” she said from places beyond.

_At least we have enough people now. _Then he hung up again, and his gaze returned to the window. The two crimson suns were out of view, but half the planet was illuminated in their unforgiving light, including the colony. _The stars are so bright up here. _That was one thing Earth could never hope to match. Well, they needed to apportion _some _nice things to the rest of the galaxy.

…

Nicole was apprehensive. Not just about Z-Ball or even the planet crack: everything. As she approached the court with Gabe, she saw dozens of reasons why.

People happily chatted with the empty air, laughing and crying as if they had deep conversations with close family and friends instead of, well, _nothing_. Dr. Warwick called it “the most spectacular, disturbing case of mass hysteria [he’d] ever seen”, and Nicole was inclined to agree. Previously sane people didn’t often hallucinate their dead or distant loved ones speaking to them, sometimes encouraging self-harm.

Speculating on the cause was beyond her purview, but the effects hit close to home. She reflected on the dream earlier… she couldn’t wait to see Isaac again – the real one, not the figment of her imagination that made her kill herself. Again, she began to hear his voice.

“Nicole,” it whispered, “make us whole.”

The sole thing that prevented her from going to the Captain and yelling in his face that they needed to leave was the colony’s condition. They were doing better, though the situation was still precarious. Dr. Sciarello claimed things were more-or-less under control for the time being. She had no choice but to believe him. If the pattern held true, the symptoms would burn themselves out in a few days. They might have to delay the crack slightly, but that’d be it. Too bad people needed to die for it.

“We’re here,” Weller announced. Though he was overbearing at times, she felt grateful to the officer for sticking by her through the past days’ crazy shit. Not just anyone would have. The locker room was empty save Curtis and Irons, his muscular friend. Seemed practically new; nothing was out of place or knocked over and no body odor invaded her nostrils, something she found nothing short of miraculous. _They take better care of this place than Medical… unless nobody’s used it. _The thought unnerved her and spoke more about the situation’s direness than curative charts or graphs ever could.

“It’s a pleasure to have you with us,” Irons said, a genuine smile crossing his face. What a gentleman. Not many of those around anymore, or so her mother said.

“Likewise, Mr. Irons.” Hesitating, she turned to Curtis and said, “Same to you.” Because he faced away from her, she couldn’t get a read on him, but he didn’t reply. What could he say? Regardless, they’d get along fine so long as he didn’t hit on her again (which she suspected he wouldn’t). If he did, she’d punch him. “All right. So, how do we play?”

_That _got Curtis’ attention. He turned around, looking at her with what bordered on shock. “You’ve never play Z-Ball before?”

“Well, no,” she said, suddenly feeling rather foolish. Was this common? She knew what it was, obviously, but she’d never attended a game, and Isaac never expressed any interest, either. More interested in circuitry than sports. “Have either of you?”

“Can’t say I have,” Irons replied. Weller simply shrugged.

“Maybe here and there, but nothing serious.” Utterly baffled, Curtis shook his head.

“OK, I see you’ve all missed out on an incredible piece of culture. Fear not, though! This is a casual game, and I won’t beat your asses _too _handily.”

_Yeah, we’ll see about that. _He led them to the chamber’s threshold, which looked very much like an airlock, though there was an atmosphere on the other side… she hoped. _I don’t think he’s stupid enough to suffocate us all to death. Couldn’t win that way._

“I hope your grav-boots are working,” he remarked, placing his hand on the door’s center, which made its various pieces retract into the frame. “Now get ready for a good time!”

The sound of Nicole’s footsteps increased tenfold as she entered the chamber, which was devoid of the graviton-producing gravity panels coating the rest of the ship. Without any force holding them down, she felt her organs shift slightly in her abdomen, something that always unnerved her as a doctor. Scary to think humans were so fragile…

“Woohoo!” Curtis yelled, coiling his knees and leaping across the stadium, landing on the “roof”. He sounded strange and garbled, though she wasn’t sure if it was a problem of acoustics, sound moving differently without gravity or a trick of her addled mind. “Man, I haven’t done this in way too long!”

“How about you get back here and tell us what we need to do! We’re not made of time!”

“Yeah, of course! Gimme a second!” He mentioned how much he enjoyed working in Zero-G, so this might acclimate him to those environments. Instead of returning, he jumped toward another platform, one that had an unusual object on it. “Here, catch!”

He lobbed the thing at them; without the curse of gravity, it laughed at the notion of parabola, instead travelling in a straight line to Weller’s arms. _Oh, it’s the Z-Ball. _Small, flitting holograms danced around the orange sphere help to players locate it in this discombobulating climate.

“Here’s how you play,” Curtis said as he landed next to them. “See those four holes?” Yeah, they were difficult to miss: two red and two blue in the wall opposite the door. “We’re in two teams. One team scores in red, the other in blue. We’ll go to, say, ten points. Other than that, just don’t tackle anyone.”

_Simple enough. _So simple, in fact, that her confidence grew significantly. _I can do this. _“Well, who’s on which team?” They actually argued this silly point for quite a while; Curtis was the only one with experience, so having him would be favorable. It never got too tense, but some petulance remained, with them all making some snide comments.

She realized how incredibly immature they acted. Fighting over the best athlete on the playground was literally something_children _did, not adults about to destroy a planet! Even Curtis stepped in to argue, saying maybe it should be the three of them against him! They were tired, stressed, scared and hallucinating, but that didn’t make it acceptable! Still, she didn’t have the strength to stop. Eventually, they decided on rock-paper-scissors… which Nicole won.

On that note, the match began. Difficult to keep the whole thing straight. Isaac called to her every so often, begging her to “make him whole,” whatever that meant, and sleep tugged at her eyelids. The foghorn-like sound that blasted through the chamber whenever a goal was scored momentarily snapped her out of it, at least. Curtis did most of the work, as she expected, jumping from platform to platform and making shots while the others tried to block him.

Still, Irons and Weller made a surprisingly good tag team; one possessed brawn, the other, stamina. Though more skilled, he had a Hell of a time fighting them off. Oh, she helped a little, intercepting shots and whatnot, but she was clearly outmatched here.

It finally got down to the end. 9 to 9.

One of the wall holes belched out the Z-Ball, sending it hurling toward where she stood. The foghorn broke her trance, and she scrambled toward it through the lack of gravity, bemoaning that they lacked equipment to make this easier. _We should have gotten Kinesis modules or RIGs with thrusters on them! _Just as she was about to grab the ball, Gabe swooped in and got it himself, kicking it to Irons. _Is that really allowed?!_

Samuel grabbed the thing, turned to the hoops and threw it. Based on its trajectory and the weightlessness, it was easy to see it’d make the target. _Well, it was a –_

Something whizzed past Irons’ head and into the ball; both spun out of their respective paths and began meandering through the massive chamber. Whirling around, she saw Curtis awkwardly hopping around chasing after it… and missing a grav-boot. She was off before she could say anything. The room spun around her as she leapt through the air, spiraling around and making her queasy. Shouting erupted above or below or beside her – she couldn’t tell. All she saw was the ball spinning in the opposite direction as her, creating an awful vertigo.

Snatching it, she found their goal and threw it.

**“Red Team wins!” **the holo-screen blared as the score morphed into a shower of red confetti. **“Congratulations to all players! Please retrieve any items you may have dropped and welcome the next group in!”**

They all returned to the entrance after Curtis first retrieved his shoe, drenched head-to-toe in sweat. Actually, she did feel a bit better after that workout! Maybe she’d start prescribing exercise to patients instead of their dwindling medicine. Gabe didn’t seem thrilled about losing, but Irons remained enthusiastic. “This was a good idea. Perhaps we could do it again sometime?”

“I’ll admit, I had a nice time,” Weller mumbled.

So did she. Not having many friends aboard, it was comforting to have this group to fall back on. She’d heard unpleasant stories from other women about being “one of the guys”, but this didn’t seem bad. She could go for a game of Z-Ball every now and again. More interesting than most other downtime activities here. Still, she was grateful when her organs settled into place as she stepped out.

“You did good,” Curtis told her as they left. “But I did better.” Good, she actually hated flattery. Far better to have a self-impressed braggart than someone who showered empty praise on others. At least the former was less duplicitous, though he was obviously just making a joke.

“What was that song you kept muttering?” she asked. “Something like ‘Come on and slam and welcome to the jam’?”

His face was suddenly red as a tomato. “Uh, it’s nothing. Just the theme to some ancient proto-Z-Ball movie that I saw on the Transnet once. It… was really bad.” Based on his tone, that was a complete and utter lie.

“Uh huh. Well, are you ready to start tomorrow?”

“I wouldn’t miss it if the world was ending.” A sardonic smile formed on his face as he glanced at her. “Actually, it is.”


	4. Beginning of the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, one and all. It’s not quite Halloween, but I couldn’t contain my excitement, so the composition took less time than I thought. This has been such fun to do between schoolwork and personal engagements. I haven’t planned too much of the next chapter yet, so that might take a little while longer.
> 
> This is the chapter where things get exciting, and that includes fight scenes. I haven’t written much action before, so I’d appreciate some feedback. Is it too slow, too fast, vague, overly detailed, etc? I’d like to know. Also, I’d like to know what you all think of Curtis as a character. I’m trying to make him complex, but how does that come across?
> 
> Special thanks to PUZZLEMASTER1998, ZA FALCON, CRIMSON AN’XILEEL and DERPYSAUCE for their recent reviews, and to ORTHODOX for being a great beta-reader. I’m happy you’re enjoying it, for the most part, and I’m always grateful for reactions.

**1 Hour Pre-Outbreak**

Curtis sweated bullets as he donned his work RIG. The RIG Room (the chamber he’d explored a few days prior) was already warm thanks to the waste heat of a million nearby machines, and the hundreds of other people created even more. Combined with the thick, insulated spacesuit, it felt like an oven. His exhaustion hardly helped.

_One arm’s in, _he thought, struggling to fit the other without dislocating it. The Standard Mining RIG he’d been issued was clearly an old model; newer ones were far less of a hassle. Still, he had no doubt it’d serve him well in the months to come. He then turned his attention outward.

The room was surprisingly quiet, though hardly tranquil. Nothing besides rumbling machines. Nobody spoke or interacted with each other. The crush of humanity focused on suiting up, their eyes sunken and skin sallow. They all felt the same way: tired, discouraged and scared. _The Marker’s here. It’ll help us. _But if lifelong Unitologists didn’t seem to believe that, how could he? He just shoved his other arm in when the intercom crackled to life for the Captain’s big announcement. Excitement swelled within him, cutting through fatigue like a knife.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mathius spoke. His words sounded slightly slurred, though that might have merely been the room’s acoustics. 

_Or he’d just as tired as us. Or drunk. _God, he couldn’t imagine the pain of being hungover with all these other aches.

“Thank you for bearing these difficult days with patience and grace. I realize this has been trying for you all…”

“Fuck you, Mathius! You’re going to kill us all! We need to leave!” somebody shouted in the background. _That _got everyone’s attention, including his own. Backtalking authority wasn’t uncommon in this business, but he’d never heard anybody say it to the captain’s face, let alone over public channels. Whoever said that would likely spend a few days in the brig.

The speaker cut out, and chattering started up among the miners. A couple people laughed. This would hang over Mathius for the rest of the mission, something that made Curtis perversely gleeful. Though he didn’t know the man at all, he seemed like the kind of guy who deserved to be taken down a peg. With the space’s spirit lifted, his enervated voice returned. “To continue, these days have been onerous for us all. Some have even suggested we give up on this mission…” He trailed off, and Curtis half wondered if he’d fallen asleep. “And I considered it.”

A collective gasp went up among the old salt: those who’d worked the Ishimura before. Curtis saw why; Mathius didn’t seem like the type who fled from a challenge. “But this is too important to abandon. As always, mankind stands on the brink of resource depletion. Aegis VII is a mineralogical treasure trove capable of sustaining industry for years!” That was a good point, and several of his peers nodded in agreement. “Furthermore, the gravity tethers are already active, and I don’t want to leave them waiting. This _will not _be another Wanat Disaster!”

Curtis cringed at the mention. It happened 11 years ago in 2497; he was barely more than a teenager. Disaster of the century; a malfunctioning (some said sabotaged) gravity tether spawned a black hole that destroyed an entire star system and took 5,000 people with it. God, he remembered the nightmarish footage playing on his crappy apartment’s holo-screen during his time in Mars Capita. _During the Independence Riots. Those might have been deadlier. This is a fucked-up universe. _The Captain made his point.

“I know you can all do it. You’re a fine crew, and I have faith. Now, prepare yourselves! There’s ten minutes left!” A couple cheers erupted as the intercom clicked off. Seemed Mathius had more fire left in him than he thought!

Taking a final deep breath of oil-tainted air, Curtis sealed his suit. Helmet pieces sprang up from around the collar, quickly assembling themselves into something airtight. _Might need a haircut. I hate when it gets caught in moving parts. _Honestly, the duds were his favorite part of being a miner. The RIG made him stronger, tougher and more confident, not to mention that it looked badass. He turned toward a metal locker and admired his reflection; he looked like a superhero. Probably childish, but it always entertained.

From there, it was merely a matter of following the instructions they’d been sent the previous night: what positions they worked which days, their shift times and so on. It was quite relaxing, actually. Despite the impending danger that space mining inherently brought, something always charmed him about this stage. His helmet deadened the noise around him, and the suit system readouts that popped up in his helmet’s holographic interface. Today, he was going to be part of the extraction crew, so he needed something that could break rocks up fast.

Therefore, he walked over to a rack and deftly pulled out an IM-822 Handheld Ore Cutter (“Line Gun” to its friends), a tested workhorse. Grabbing some miniature power cells, he made sure that the safety was on and walked over to the elevator, whistling a jaunty tune that nobody else could hear. Then it became a waiting game of waiting for the elevator and hoping he could find a spot to view the planet before the main event.

At last, the gates opened, and the vast throngs crowded onto the massive platform, which was much darker. Curtis couldn’t imagine how strong it needed to be to support hundreds of people wearing RIGs. _I wonder how Gabe, Sam and Nicole are doing_, he thought as the elevator scraped down its shaft. Would have hurt his ears if not for the helmet.

The latter two no doubt worked hard in their own respective fields. Weller, however, had something else on his plate. Curtis asked him about his plans for watching the planet crack, and he was… evasive. Sounded classified, but he gleaned that he was going down to the colony for some business there. _Very cloak-and-dagger. I guess Mathius and Colony Manager Carthusia really are in some kind of spat. _Well, he was a good cop, and this sounded like white-collar stuff. No doubt he could get it sorted.

They first reached the Mineral Processing subdeck, where refinement took place before the merchandise got carted to Ore Storage. _Wow. _His jaw dropped as dozens of people streamed past. While he couldn’t see the whole thing, it appeared the subdeck was formed from dozens of massive machines. He recognized many of them, but the scale was nearly incomprehensible. Sifters and smelters and conveyor belts and compactors of this scale could process the comets he usually mined in a couple of minutes… which he supposed was the point of _planet _cracking. A catwalk system hung above the pandemonium. _Must get really hot up there._

It made him feel utterly tiny. The doors closed, and they descended into further darkness. All he could ponder was being a speck of dust floating through the universe. Of course, as a new Unitologist, he needed to learn to look at his insignificance from a different angle. _Sure, I’m not important, but humanity as a whole is. I’m part of that: a cell in a grand body. _

And for the first time in his life, he’d made a couple friends. Those relationships likely wouldn’t last beyond the mission – they were brought together by circumstance, after all – but it proved to be a profoundly different experience from living anonymously in the crowd. He dreaded becoming vulnerable, but as yesterday’s Z-Ball game proved, it wasn’t all bad.

At long last, they arrived at the Extraction subdeck. A blast of air hit Curtis as he stepped out into the antechamber. This area wasn’t as breathtaking as the prior floor, but his destination certainly would be! Several dozen people in identical outfits walked through the halls, none speaking. Anticipation built within Curtis; according to the vital systems in his helmet, his heartrate was 130 BPM. Always interesting to have detailed information about his body at his fingertips, despite the rumors that employers often sold said data to third parties without consent. That kind of creeped him out.

People split off every few seconds, going to other mining bays, of which there were _many_; directions were clearer here than on the rest of the ship, which made sense. One wrong move could send you into a blast furnace or the like. It became darker as more people departed, for the light from their spine-mounted health readouts went with them. The science was way beyond him, but the idea that you could literally see someone’s life slipping away was never a pleasant one. In that darkness, he constantly scanned for the Shadow Man.

In fact, he was so caught up in these thoughts that he walked into a door, bouncing off with a clang_. _The helmet prevented him from hurting himself like the first time, though. The other miners laughed, and his blood boiled. “You would have done the same!” he shouted. Only the supervisor’s presence, distinguished by an Intermediate Mining RIG instead of the Standard, averted him from tossing in some expletives. _At least they don’t know who I am. _He craned his neck. The threshold was a massive airlock; in the dim light, he could scarcely discern the top.

Well, this was Mining Bay 10. He closed his eyes and placed his hand on the door. A terrible grinding noise flared around them as metal scoured metal. It made them cringe despite the headgear. Sure, this ship was several decades old, but they at least could have oiled the equipment from time to time! An aperture opened in the door’s center, slowly radiating toward the edges as more metal retracted.

The interior took his breath away. It was exactly as he imagined: a room even larger than the Z-Ball stadium, studded with machines, oxygen canisters, stasis recharge stations and some backup mining tools (though everyone present already possessed their equipment of choice). The most impressive aspect was the wall-sized blue-tinged sealant grid, much like the one on the Flight Deck. He didn’t know how it worked – sulfur hexa-whatever gas held in place by a stasis field or something. The important thing was that it let solidsthrough but not the atmospheric gasses, so they didn’t have to work in a vacuum.

Through it, he saw Aegis VII, the colony directly facing them. Perfect timing, too. Mathius crackled in on the speaker system again. “The time has come, everyone. I’m popping the cork in five… four…” Blue lights were erupting volcanoes on the colony, overwhelming all other illumination.

“Three…” The whole ship quaked. The power required to hold an entire continent was astronomical. Curtis wasn’t afraid, or at least he tried not to be.

“Two…” Something danced in his mind’s eye – the Marker. It’d protect them. It had to! That’s what everyone said.

“One…” The Shadow Man emerged from beneath it, and Curtis suddenly didn’t feel too confident about that first part anymore.

“Zero.”

Curtis was blind. A flash like a nuclear bomb went off from the planet. For what felt like minutes, all he experienced was the Marker and the Shadow Man and the eternal droning whispers. Then his vision returned, and the country-sized planet chunk slowly drifted toward them, moved from both sides by blue graviton beams.

Applause and cheering and shouting broke out among the crew, and Curtis himself high-fived a couple of his faceless comrades. He laughed and wished _they _could see him now – his teachers and social workers and prior employers who doubted him. He wanted so much for Captain Malyech to be there so he could brag about all he’d accomplished. But it wasn’t befitting for him to focus on those old grudges anymore, he supposed. Like, Unitologists believed in forgiveness, right? Curtis pushed those thoughts aside to concentrate on the matter at hand. Maybe this lifestyle wouldn’t be easy even with the Marker.

_Except my real parents, wherever they are. _Them, he could never pardon. One step at a time, though.

The celebration still went strong when the lights died. The only illumination came from deep space: stars, reflected light from the planet and, of course, the gravity tethers on the continent drifting toward them. Then the situation’s weight struck him, as well as everyone else. They dove to the floor, grabbing the indentations in it for dear life!

It took them a moment to realize the sealant grid held and they were not about to be sucked into the depths of space. _Oh, thank God. _They all looked foolish that time as they picked themselves off the floor. Perhaps they’d be a little slower to judge now.

“Normal electromagnetic surges. The magnetic field of the planet is bleeding out. Nothing to worry about,” the Captain announced before fading away again.

He doubted that, considering the veteran miners seemed pretty shaken up by it (though he went off body language). Still, everything seemed solid. Cautiously optimistic, Curtis stared at the gaping hole on the planet. Hard to believe it’d all soon be gone. The only thing they could do was wait for the package to arrive.

…

Nicole sipped some SUN cola from a mug, feeling the best she had in days. Her fingers flew over the holographic keyboard, updating case reports and patient files a mile a minute. Caffeine and the music of F33L, her favorite band, kept her alert, and the fact she actually caught a few hours of sleep last night was icing on the cake! Additionally, most of her patients had been discharged. Not that they felt any better – they didn’t – but the planet crack required all hands at their stations, and few were willing to have their pay docked.

Humming along, she pounded out a few more words before she heard the door behind her slide open. She quickly killed the music; it likely wouldn’t impress whoever snuck up on her.

“That was F33L, right?” Dr. Kyne asked.

_Color me impressed_. He wasn’t ancient, but he was still old enough to be her father. “I didn’t expect you to know who they were.”

“My wife likes their music.” His friendly smile faltered. “Rather, she _did_. Always played it while exercising.”

Her heart sank. She’d heard his wife died several years ago, and he never remarried. That was quite rare in their time. Love was just… _cheaper _than a few hundred years ago. She doubted she or Isaac would remain chaste if the other passed. The point was that she respected that kind of love. But the CSO had more pressing matters to discuss, clearly.

“Dr. Brennan, may I come in for a moment?”

“Of course. And please, just call me Nicole.” She was never one for formalities, and they’d already gotten to know each other a bit.

“Thank you. You may call me Terrence.” Stepping in, he grabbed a chair and pulled it over to her before sitting. She wasn’t sure what to make of his sober, stoic expression. It took him a moment to begin. “You’re aware that I’m studying the Marker, correct?”

She nodded. Who better than a Unitologist scientist to lead the project? “Have you found anything interesting? Besides the markings on it, anyway.” The symbols appeared identical to the ones on the Black Marker… or so she’d been told. Xenolinguistics wasn’t her field. Regardless, the meanings might be possible to crack now that they possessed the genuine article. She knew the Church made its own “language” from them, but this was merely English with letters substituted for runes in an effort to be more “spiritual”. Whatever.

Leaning in, he whispered, “It emits a psychosomatic energy field unlike anything I have ever seen.”

Everything suddenly made sense. The nightmares, the madness, maybe even the intermittent comm problems. If the Marker really did produce electricity akin to that in the brain, it could cause the hallucinations. It might also impact ship systems by overloading them. _So that’s it. _The mystery was solved. It should have greatly relieved her. Instead, it only made her fear more profound. So many questions arose from this, one in particular being of vital importance.

“Is it intentional?”

Kyne’s face went pale. “I don’t know. Possibly, but the holy texts never spoke of such effects. Another likelihood, one I am more inclined to believe, is that it is trying to communicate with people but has been abandoned for so long that it can no longer do so correctly.”

Nicole was tempted to interrupt, but she waited until he stopped to speak, anger tinging her voice. “To be clear, Terrence, I don’t like Unitologists; you’ve probably gathered that by now. Some are good people – like you – but a lot are naïve, corrupt or simply unpleasant, like…” Professional courtesy made her shy away from naming Dr. Mercer “…some people I work with.”

“I’ve heard this dozens of times before. I suggest you make your point, Nicole.” Yeah, she could have handled that with a bit more tact.

“We need to be objective here. Despite it being sacred to you, it’s _killing _people, and we need to stop it.” The question was how. The Ishimura didn’t possess the kind of containment equipment needed to isolate it. They could blast it into space with a homing beacon attached for retrieval later, but it could still easily become lost to the void, and the signal’s range seemed far-reaching, considering it still affected the colony a couple hundred miles beneath them. As for destroying it… no. She’d come to believe humanity needed the knowledge stored within. One didn’t have to be Unitologist to see the value of such a discovery.

Terrence buried his head in his hands. “Ideally, we’d turn on the Relaynets and requisition a vessel to return it to Earth. That doesn’t seem feasible with the comm troubles we’ve had of late, so the best option would be to return ourselves. If we move quickly, we can be back here in three days; shouldn’t be enough time for a second Wanat to happen.” They both shuddered. That would have been worse.

“I’m going to talk with Captain Mathius and convince him to leave; it’d be better handled in person than via RIG-Link. I thought you should know about the Marker in case it makes you look at this illness in a new light.”

“Thank you, but the fact it’s being cause by an alien artifact doesn’t bring me much comfort,” she muttered, raking her brain for possible solutions. She could find none. The Marker was far beyond their science; she doubted it’d be possible to whip up a cure for a sickness it produced. Didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.

“Indeed.” Terrence stood up, nodded and went on his way toward the Bridge. Once he left, Nicole slumped over, feeling utterly drained.

“I love you, babe. Come back to me,” Isaac said in her mind’s far spaces.

_I’m trying, _she replied, feeling a few tears run down her face. It was unhealthy to feed the hallucinations, she realized. But she loved him so much, and a phantasm was better than nothing in the insanity. Slowly, though, she picked herself up and headed for the Chemistry Lab. _Am I really going to do this? _A pointless question – she wasn’t the kind of person to go down without a fight. Finding a way to cure this might literally be the fight of her life.

**15 Minutes Pre-Outbreak**

Curtis stared with bated breath as the first rockball neared. There would be thousands more, but this one was naturally special. Gravometric shearers trimmed excess material as it approached the cradle, making it spherical. It resembled a giant 8-ball; the Crew Deck could really use some pool tables, now that he thought about it. _Reminds me of my time with the Magpies._

Indeed, this whole trip hearkened back to his early days, although the trappings were far more expensive. Similar experiences awaited, but now he saw them in a different light. He remembered his excitement first seeing a shockring collapse comets into dense mineral balls – “eggs”, they were called. _Maybe they went a little overboard with the bird terminology._

The asteroid drew closer and closer, reeled in by gravity tethers like a fish. A primal fear that it’d crash into them almost made Curtis step back, but he wouldn’t be mocked again. He hated it. Therefore, he stood his ground as the rockball partially passed through the sealant grid, blasting them with wind as the displaced atmosphere swirled about the room.

They all cheered, but it was more subdued this time. Everyone knew what came now: work. Long shifts every day for six months. It was what he signed up for, but it intimidated him, nonetheless. The Shadow Man peered at him from dark corners. Even without a mouth, it still somehow smiled. _At least I’ll be whipped so hard I won’t be able to acknowledge it. _That was the first time such a load somewhat appealed to him. _Just try to drive me mad again when I’m too tired to move, you freak. _

“Now entering zero gravity,” the ship AI said. After all the insanity that’d gone down, the forced-fun robot was a welcome distraction. Indeed, his grav-boots kicked into action, anchoring his feet to the floor as his organs drifted slightly within his ribcage. Unlike most, he found the sensation invigorating. How did people in the old days deal with not being able to fly?

As the stone was locked into place by mining rakes, a gravity well opened on the other side of the room. All they needed to do was break up the rock; Processing handled the rest.

Curtis disengaged his grav-boots and used his thrusters to navigate to the asteroid, being sure to avoid the mining rakes, which already scoured the space-facing surface with plasma beams to make their jobs easier. Flying up with the rest of the crew reminded him of bees, those strange extinct insects he’d seen on nature vids. They all worked together with a common purpose – the good of their community. _Maybe there’s a lesson for me in that._

Then they landed. Curtis stomped the rock to get a feel for it. Very dense, which portended great mineral wealth. “All right, everyone. The time’s finally here,” their supervisor said over comms, static-filled though they were. “Now it’s time to… …ork on… …and… _KHH_.”

The static pounded his eardrums and made Curtis deactivate his audio systems. He could go deaf some other time. _Mathius said this was normal, but I’ve never heard of natural causes fucking with modern electronics this much. _All heavy-duty RIGS and tools were hardened against EMPs, so their equipment shorting out wouldn’t be a problem, at least.

Still, it was abundantly clear what would happen now. Feeling a smile form on his face, he turned toward his anonymous comrades and nodded. They all detached their tools from their magnetic back-holsters. That was another benefit of zero gravity work – your arms didn’t get sore from holding weightless objects! Turning the tool on, he extended its “barrel”, which created a three-foot wide filament that fired beams of plasma. Now all he needed to do was point and shoot.

His coworkers chipped away at the rock with Forces Guns, Plasma Cutters, Rippers, Contact Beams and a couple of Flamethrowers – though the latter weren’t popular, because the CEC cheaped out a bit and bought some subpar model that didn’t work in vacuums. What exciting names they all were! Far better than strings of serial numbers, and his helmet deadened the otherwise overwhelming cacophony of cracksand whirrs. Finding a nice split in the rock, Curtis pointed the tool down and fired.

_Hiss. _The stone glowed red-hot from thermal energy, steam sizzling off it. With another shot, a car-sized slab detached and flew away, sucked into the opposite wall’s gravity well. As it passed, his eyes widened at the rich mineral seams within. He saw cobalt, gold, tungsten and even a bit of platinum. If this wasn’t an anomaly, they’d found a motherlode! Humanity’s industry expanded every day, but this might be able to supply his whole species for a decade instead of the few years originally estimated.

_Oh_, he thought, realizing what that meant for him. _That’s… too bad. _If Aegis VII was so mineral-rich, people wouldn’t need miners for a long time. Maybe he could survive that 10-year gap on the money he made from this… but he didn’t really want to. His job was the only thing that made him happy. Petty though it was, he had a purpose. To have that taken away… _Come on, Curtis. You haven’t finished the first asteroid yet._

“It’s pointless, you know,” the Shadow Man sibilated in his mind. “Convergence is coming. None of this matters. Soon, you will have a far greater destiny.”

_Shut up, _he thought right back to the hallucination. Then he struck upon a thought that made his skin crawl. _If I’m crazy, I might accidentally kill someone! _These were all incredibly dangerous devices even in trained hands. What if he imagined another person as merely a rocky outcropping and shot their head off?! It almost made him quit right there… but that obviously couldn’t happen. Still, he kept a close eye on everyone else, should one of them snap.

Angry, he fired the Line Gun a few more times, expertly hammering away at exposed cracks and gaps, feeding chunks of different sizes into the processors. Exposure to space made after eons of being surrounded by magma made the rock very brittle; this was easier than he expected. Though separate, they were all experienced in this field, and they moved with a sense of purpose. Even though he knew none of these men and women, Curtis was honored to be among them. He really hoped they were all alive when all this ended.

And before he knew it, they were all out of rock. The dozen of them stood together, giants on a planetoid the size of a bathroom. As they maneuvered to the floor, the mining rakes disengaged, allowing the now-manageable piece to drift forward toward inevitable demise. More specifically, the detritus and dirt would be discarded while minerals and ores were sorted, refined, smelted and then gravitationally collapsed into unimaginably dense ingots – a more sophisticated version of how the Magpies made their eggs. That was the only way to fit the mass of a planet into a starship, after all.

With that out of the way, the continent-sized tectonic load again became visible through the sealant grid. Maybe it was his imagination, but it looked slightly smaller than it did before.

_I’m barely tired. Maybe I’m more fit than I thought. _Figuring at least an hour had passed, Curtis pulled up the time on his holo-projector, needing to double-take when he saw it’d been a measly ten minutes! Wow. At first, he thought it to be some kind of error, but it was indeed correct. The arithmetic of destroying a planet suddenly became crystal clear. In the time it took to fold his laundry, a small team fragmentized several thousand tons of rock. Dozens of other squads did the same. This would continue for six months without pause. _We might actually pull this off. I guess it’s not CEC propaganda, after all._

Another rockball was then secured by the mining rakes. The rest of the group swarmed back over like flies, but Curtis hesitated when he noticed the supervisor leaning again the wall and shivering. Difficult to tell from body language alone, but he seemed terrified. Normally, this wouldn’t have been his problem. With the hallucinations, though… _what if he does something dangerous? _Sighing, he plodded over just to make sure he was all right.

“Excuse me, boss?” he asked aloud – the RIG-Link was still wonky. “Are you doing OK? You look a little nervous.” He didn’t say anything for a few moments, merely standing and quivering. Curtis was about to give up and get back to work when he finally replied.

“I g-gotta friend on the Bridge. She just managed to c-call and told me they’re watching footage from the colony! Everyone’s fucking dead!” With that, he fell backwards and began whimpering.

_What a great foreman, _he thought, shaking his head. He would have called somebody, but with the blackout, he reluctantly let him be and flew back to work. Every few seconds, his gaze drifted back over to the administrator, who sat in darkness with the Shadow Man looming over him. _It’s not real. Or at least it’s only real to you._

A few minutes later, he was back into the swing of things. The administrator’s “everyone is dead” talk faded into the back of his mind, and they were about halfway through this particular rockball.

And then he fell.

It wasn’t scary at first. Drifting away from the asteroid, he simply believed he’d absentmindedly deactivated his grav-boots. But then he noticed a couple others did the same; something must have knocked them loose. Finally, he recognized what that “something” was.

The room quaked, rattling and jostling, hurling debris through the air. He yelped, the disaster’s magnitude computing. Rolling thunderruptured the air; something exploded not too far away. On instinct, he boosted towards the floor so speeding detritus wouldn’t injure him. Someone closer to the asteroid wasn’t so lucky. Even from a good distance, he saw red globules floating out of the person’s chest as he or she doubled over in pain. Several people tried to help…

Then the sealant grid failed.

“Warning: hull breach det…” The AI was overpowered by the howling gale of atmosphere being sucked into the void.

“OH FUCK!” A thousand tiny, invisible hands grappled him, dragging him into the eternal dark. They tugged at his feet and shoulders, coaxing him to let go and embrace his own extinction. He clung to a groove in the floor, knowing that a single wrong move meant death.

“Let go,” the Shadow Man whispered, manifesting before him. “Let go and you will be free.” The words were hypnotic. If anyone else spoke them, he just might have obeyed. For this demon, though, Curtis replied by punching it in the face. Of course, it evaporated, and the vacuum yanked him several feet toward it before he snatched another handhold.

Turning back, he saw most others in the same position and a couple bracing the asteroid itself for dear life. The hemorrhaging person, unable to resist, was consumed by inky infinity, no doubt having already succumbed. Suddenly, someone a little to his left surrendered.

Time slowed down. He was too far away to reach them. Even if he could, there’s no guarantee he would have. All he did was watch as they plummeted toward space… or, rather, the mining rakes in their path. Though the atmosphere was nearly gone by now, he fancied he heard shearing metal and grinding meat as body and RIG struck plasma and buzz saws; the health readout plummeted from blue to red to black, and a piercing flatline split what little air remained. In less than a second, a human being was reduced to a few lacerated, charred lumps. He screamed, but all it did in the vacuum was reverberate inside his own skull.

_This is a dream, _he thought, collapsing into the fetal position. It was a bald-faced lie, but it made the following seconds slightly more bearable… until it didn’t. He erupted into tears, flowing down the side of his helmet. _They’re dead. They’re dead and so is the colony!_

From the corner of his bleary eyes, he saw the sealant grid restart, and oxygen flooded into the room a second later. “Hull breach rectified.”

As sound returned, shrieking assaulted his ears. The surviving team members were on their sides or knees, wailing. For a minute, they were brothers and sisters in grief. Hard to believe he cared about something as petty as them laughing at him. “How did this happen?!” one of them asked, probably not expecting an answer.

“A shuttle crashed into the Flight Deck.”

Turning around while dry heaving, he saw the supervisor limping toward them; a piece of debris was imbedded in his leg. Curtis’ temper flared more than ever, heart racing. This was unlike anything he’d ever felt! This guy’s job was to make sure people _didn’t _die! Were it not for his injury, Curtis would have throttled him. Still, he managed to yell, “And maybe people wouldn’t have been killed if you _did your fucking job!_”

“Yeah, maybe,” he muttered. “But could you have done it better? Could you save anyone?”

What kind of question was that?! Of course he could have saved, well, _someone! _Ignoring him, he announced, “I got a snippet of what happened on my comm. Something bad is happening on the colony. People are dying, and someone violated the no-fly order, crashed on the Flight Deck and knocked out power for a second. I’d go up there to kill whoever was driving, but he or she couldn’t have survived that kind of wreck.”

Curtis began to calm, if only slightly, anger and grief ebbing away. Instead of mourning, they had to do… _something. We have to do something. _If only he was smart enough to figure out what. Fortunately, people a little more intelligent than him were around.

“Someone should go to the Bridge,” one woman suggested. “Austin Dallas – the Mining Director – needs to know about this. The sealant grids could have failed in other bays, as well.” She was right; dozens might be injured or dead, and if someone up top didn’t know about it, things would get much worse. The fact that the man they needed to contact was named after two cities razed by the Trinity Hurricanes didn’t inspire much confidence, though.

None of them seemed enthusiastic, and neither was he. Awful as the situation was, who knew what they’d encounter on the way? If an impact a deck away was powerful enough to knock out the power, perhaps other areas were _more_dangerous. Most people had retracted their helmets to speak more personally by now. He saw their faces: angry and scared, stained with tears. If only their families and friends were there to comfort them – the real ones, not the facsimile drones they hallucinated. That’s when he decided to do it.

He didn’t have those things. Nobody would miss him. _And maybe I’ll get a special place in Heaven – or Convergence – if I die while doing this. Unitology is big on martyrs, right? _While he wanted to live, dying for a good cause sounded better than dying doing anything else; there was no guarantee this area would be safe, either.

“I’ll go,” he said, leaving his helmet on to protect his own doubtlessly downcast face. Again, he needed nobody’s sympathy or support. It never worked out. He couldn’t discern if anyone said anything, for he already strode toward the door.

…

Nicole moved with a purpose and passion she hadn’t possessed for many years. She examined MRI scans, mixed chemicals, studied the formulas of various medicines and overall scrambled to catch up with this disease.

_Oh, just give up, _she thought after about an hour, collapsing face-first onto the desk. This was a task probably better suited to a psychologist, but Dr. Warwick was nowhere to be found. Damn the comm blackout! Damn ever signing up for this mission! She could only hope Kyne convinced Mathius and they fled the system ASAP. She wanted to fall asleep and escape from this waking nightmare into some imaginary ones, but the sulfurous odors kept her wide awake. _Is this doubt even my own, or is it the Marker influencing me? _Nothing was certain anymore.

“Dr. Brennan. Still trying to halt the inevitable, I see.” Oh, great. This was the last person she wanted to deal with. Mustering all the professionalism she could, she turned to watch Dr. Mercer stalk in. 

_Can’t he leave me alone? _Something about the man made her hair stand on end, but she couldn’t figure out what that was. It might have been him staring a little too long, standing a little too close or speaking a little too softly. Probably all three. The man was also a quack – she’d done a little digging and found a number of papers attempting to reconcile biology with esoteric Unitologist hypotheses, such as all life being metaphysically connected. Obviously Church influence was the only reason he could obtain the position of Second Medical Officer. “What do you want, Mercer?”

“Merely to tell you of miraculous events on the colony!” Nicole picked herself up and continued to puzzle as he spoke. “I accompanied Dr. Kyne to the Bridge and saw the footage, courtesy of Ensign Jurgens. It was not the form I expected our salvation to take, but I am not one to spurn the Marker’s blessings.”

She didn’t know what he babbled about and she didn’t care. “Mercer, my work here is incredibly important. If you’re not going to help, leave me alone.”

For a moment, he simply stood beside her, watching. “Very well. I’ll continue to spread the good news to our fellow staff. And if I may say so, you look lovely today, Nicole.”

She oscillated between shame, indignation and fear, the latter especially. There was no one nearby. If Mercer was unhinged enough to “make advances”, she didn’t know if she’d be able to fight him off. All she knew was that she’d rarely been so distressed. “Leave,” she spat. Had her throat not been welded shut, she’d have thrown in a couple extra words for good measure.

A subtle shaking rattled the desks and sloshed solutions around in their beakers. The lights dimmed, turning the sterile white environment shades of black. A very faint crackling split the air. _Fireworks? _Obviously not, but the alternative was so alarming it barely registered. This all would doubtless have frightened her were it not for a greater anxiety right beside her. The sensation subsided after a few seconds, and the world stilled. _What was that?!_

The source seemed to be very far away, yet the shockwave emanating from it was still tangible. Something must have hit the ship! _Oh God. _But what? An asteroid? No, the ADS cannons could take down any incoming object with a consistent trajectory; everyone knew that. It had to be something that could veer and dodge the fire, something like –

“A shuttle!” she blurted out. Someone must have tried running Mathius’ blockade and paid the price. She had to find out where it happened; people needed a doctor. They needed _her. _

As she shot up, Mercer said, “Don’t bother. Who knows where it landed, and whoever was aboard is dead, anyway.” Blood simmered in her veins. Deep down, though, she comprehended that he was correct. That would only waste time; there was work here, pointless though it might be. Sighing, she sat back down.

As Mercer left, all she could do was stew in her own self-doubt while pushing on regardless. With newfound determination, she continued tinkering despite the faint screams coming from around the deck and “Isaac’s” desperate pleas.

**15 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Curtis thumped along, deep within the Ishimura’s heart. The ship itself was “only” a couple miles long (still among the largest ever built), but hundreds of miles of tunnels filled it thanks to the honeycomb structure of different decks and subdecks. Some of these may have only seen human traffic a few times every decade, as seemed to be the case with this one.

Hot steam vented from slots in the wall, though he wasn’t sure if that was intentional or a product of the shuttle crash. Either way, his RIG was ample protection. It created a hazy, nebulous corridor – reminded him of a smaller tram tunnel, actually. _Maybe I should have taken that instead of walking. _He shook his head. The Bridge was the stop immediately before Mining, so it would be eight stops away on the gondola circuit. Compounded with frightened, manic people trying to locate friends and loved ones, he decided it’d be faster to hoof it.

_And I should almost be there… assuming I read the map right. _He liked to think he picked up a thing or two about cartography over the past week.

His boots made surprisingly little noise; perhaps the hissing of steam deadened it. Another burst fogged up his visor, and he struggled to wipe it away with the heavily padded gauntlet. A few moments later, he arrived at a door wider and thicker than most. Must have led to the lower areas of the Bridge; each deck was partitioned off like this, he knew. Sure enough, a small holo-sign reading **“Bridge Access” **peeked through the fog.

He placed his hand on the door, but nothing happened. Looking closer, he saw the blue “open” hologram rotating; perhaps it rebooted. Damn it, did he have to go around?! Everyone counted on him! He couldn’t just –

Someone was coming. Over the sounds of air filtration and distant mining machines, he heard heavy, ponderous footsteps approach. _Thank Altman. Maybe it’s an engineer. _Turning around, he walked back through the fog. “Excuse me? I think this door’s busted! Can you fix it? I have to get to the Bridge ASAP to talk to the Mining Director!” No response except… was that _growling? _Sounded like an animal, except there weren’t any aboard! Too bad – Curtis would have loved a communal cat or something. Echoes must have distorted the person’s voice.

“Hello?” Try as he might to make sense of it, all he heard were snarls. Finally, he saw a silhouette in the mist. _Oh, I get it. The Shadow Man’s playing a trick on me. _“Yeah, real funny,” he muttered to his subconscious mind. The steam briefly parted as he was about to turn back. Well, maybe they _were _real. What was the harm in speaking up?

“Hey! Can you hear me?!” he shouted, not trying to be rude. What if the person was hard of hearing? That did the trick. He or she let out another guttural growl, which made Curtis’ stomach drop. Something was very wrong.

As they plodded forward, his skin crawled. From the outline alone, he noted the disfigurement. Bones protruded through the skin in places, and strange sounds filled the corridor. _They must have been hurt in the crash! _It looked _bad _from what little he discerned, but they were still walking, which was a good sign.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna call Medical… if the comms are up yet!” They had to be! He couldn’t help those people before, but here was someone he could save! The supervisor’s words rang out in his head. Turning around to give the person more privacy, he pulled up his RIG’s holo-screen to make a call.

The wind was knocked out of him as he landed on his back. Was… was he _tackled? _His mind reeled. That confusion wasn’t helped by the sight of the person on top of him.

“Person” was actually too generous; though humanoid in shape, human it was not. “Flayed sack of flesh” fit better. The thing’s lower jaw had been ripped off, exposing muscle and small tentacles beneath, and its eyes were shriveled dots. Swatches of fabric hung to its frame, but it was mostly a mass of scalloped meat. Curtis just lay there for a second with the thing on top of him, appraising him like a wolf craving meat.

It was a hallucination, of course. Aliens weren’t real. Though convincing in a way none of the previous phantasms had been, it was far more ridiculous. _Looks like the monster from my dreams, now that I think about it. _Yeah, he was taking a break from horror for a while. Well, the thing would vanish in a moment, and he could be on his way. “You’re real fucking ugly, you know that?”

In response, the creature shoved its excoriated face into his helmet and roared, flecking his visor with bloody spittle. Curtis almost shit himself. Somehow, he realized, this thing existed. And it wanted to kill him.

Shrieking, he rolled to the side, and a sharp pain shot through him. The health monitor in his headgear dropped from full to about 4/5th, changing from blue to green as it did. The screaming continued, though in the madness, he couldn’t tell if it was his or the beast’s or both. Leaking blood from a nasty gash his right shoulder, he sprinted away. It followed, raising its arms (more like swords) above its head and barreling toward him.

“SHIT SHIT SHIT!” he repeated over and over. Not a very profound mantra, but it was all that came to mind. In this fight-or-flight state of being, his surroundings melted together. He only saw important things; all else might as well have disappeared. One of those crucial objects was the door – still shut.

_I’m going to die, _he realized. _I’m going to get murdered by a monster. _

His entire life flashed before his eyes: awful childhood, pointless teenage years onto adulthood, which he spent clawing his way to some semblance of success. And it ended like this. Well, he wanted to be martyred. Now it was about to happen.

Agony brought him back to reality; it cut him to the bone. The thing was about fifteen feet away. Shooting forward, it would be upon him in a second or two. Felt so much goddamn longer.

But he wanted to live.

He wasn’t sure why. His life sucked. Some had it worse, of course, but what kept him going? All he would ever amount to was being a deep space miner, and even that was in jeopardy. The only constant in his world as of late had been watching humanity circle the drain. No family, no friends… well, he made a couple here, but they’d never see each other again after this job.

The primal animalistic urge to persist won out, though.

The creature, blade-arms raised and screaming through a broken mouth, was upon him. He did the first thing he thought of. He stepped out of the way.

It ran face-first into the door, making a _splat _sound. “Hah!” he shouted through gritted teeth. “Hurts, doesn’t it, you motherfucker?!” The thing spun around only to have his left fist meet its head. _This is just a bar fight, _he told himself, kicking it into the wall as it flailed. _Just hit it and don’t let it hit you! _Easier said than done.

It jabbed a blade at him, nearly clipping his neck, as Curtis leapt to the side and reciprocated with another fist to the face. If only he brought a Cutter or that Line Gun with him, but he didn’t expect this shit to happen! A stasis module would have been good, too!

Again, he ducked as it slashed the wall behind him. The metal screeched under the thing’s strength, leaving visible marks. Out of everything’s, that was what made Curtis piss himself. Wasn’t a huge deal – all work RIGs had built-in catheters – but the power it took to dent solid metal with one’s bare hands (or other appendages) … even with a RIG, most humans couldn’t do that. If the thing got a clean hit on him, he was dead.

But that’s when the door finally opened.

Perhaps the monster running into it provided the jolt to activate it again. That was his best way out, but he needed to make sure this abomination couldn’t follow him. Good thing there weren’t – _oh. It came from the shuttle – from the colony. Fuck, there’s probably more! _

While he was distracted, the thing mixed up his tactics and kicked him, rattling the floor as he fell. It roared triumphantly before stabbing him in the gut. He would have passed out were it not for the painkillers the RIG injected into his bloodstream. The Med-Pack he had loaded up stabilized his health at green, but it still hurt like a bitch, and that was the only one he had. Regardless, he still coughed up a gobbet of blood, which coated the inside of his visor. With steam on the outside, he was nearly blind.

As he fumbled to stand up, his gloved hand fell upon something: a simple, condensate-covered wrench. Not much, but it was better than nothing. Fumbling to his feet, he retracted his helmet. The stench almost made him throw up. In addition to looking like roadkill, it _smelled _like it, too.

He and the freak circled each other at a distance of about ten feet, sizing up their opposite. While he still nearly fainted at the sight of this abomination, at least it didn’t seem sapient. No, it was more of an animal than anything else. An _alien _animal…

Assuming they ever got back to Earth, this would make history. Humanity scoured the cosmos for generation in search of life. Turned out it existed, all right. And it was one hideous son of a bitch. Its face was frozen in a hollow stare, but his was doubtlessly manic with terror.

At last, it made its move. It lunged at him while he swept under its raised arms and smacked its head as hard as he could with the wrench. It almost slipped from his grasp for a moment, but his aim was true, nailing it under the jaw. Thanks to his enhanced brawn, it flew right off. The popping of tendons and splitting of bone were all he heard. He’d never forget them.

The skull, broken in half, landed at his feet, and the sight of alien brain matter coating the ceiling finally made him lose it. He vomited from the disgust and horror, and then again from the awful smell. The hall reeked of charred, rotting meat.

Against the odds, he was alive. The prospect of having fought and killed a space alien made him somewhat giddy. Did that make him a hero? Would he get some kind of medal once they got back to Earth? Some part of him recognized that this was incredibly selfish, but he didn’t care! If he got out of this alive, there was a sweet-ass movie deal waiting for him. Had to think about his future, after all. _I’ll take a quick picture with me and the body and then I’ll keep going._

Even if there were more, it wouldn’t be too big a deal. All he needed to do was reach the Bridge – they had guns there. If he managed to take one out with a wrench, PCSI could tear through them like butter. Stepping over to the corpse, which lay in a puddle of dark blood, he leaned back, aligned the holo-screen, and… it was getting back up.

He wanted to believe it was another hallucination, but nothing was impossible anymore. He ran to the other side of the door, no longer possessing the will to scream. The thing wasn’t as fast or agile without its head, but it nevertheless shambled toward him, swinging its blades wildly. If they could survive decapitation, maybe the odds were more against them than he thought.

Though terrifying, he just felt numb watching this inhuman monstrosity creep toward him. Closer… closer. He played his hand as it stepped through the threshold. These doors wouldn’t normally close if someone was beneath them, but this one already malfunctioned. Curtis pressed a button on the wall, and the bulkhead slammed down, slicing the thing in two. Its arms and most of the torso remained on the Bridge while the legs were in Mining. They spasmed for a moment before going limp.

Breathing heavily, Curtis took out his wrench. Hand trembling, he threw it at the corpse to make sure it was just that: dead. It bounced off the body, which didn’t move.

OK, great, all he had to do was… mourn. His knees gave out, and he spent a long time balled up in the corner, crying among old, forgotten memories.


	5. Leaving for Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! I really didn't expect to get this out so quickly, but here I am. In less than a month, I've written 40,000 words. I don't say that to brag – I can hardly believe it, myself. However, I really think the next update will take a while. Finals are coming up, and I have lots of papers to do, so that'll affect my output. Hopefully I can have the next chapter out by the end of November.
> 
> The winner of the weapon poll was *drumroll* the Line Gun! That kind of surprised me – I thought it'd be the Javelin Gun – but this is good, too. I think it provides a wider range of ways to kill things. Props to everyone who voted.
> 
> Finally, I've seriously mulled over getting cover art for Ordination like I commissioned some for my FNaF story. Nothing's set in stone, but know that I am actively considering it. I probably won't get anything until the female Stalker love interest (man, I'm weird) shows up, (which won't be for a few more chapters, if you're wondering).
> 
> Thanks to CRIMSON AN'XILEEL, PUZZLEMASTER1998, TYRANICALREPTILE, DERPYSAUCE, ZA FALCON and ANCIENTOFDAYZ for reviewing, as well as ORTHODOX, my beta reader. Hope you all enjoy.

**45 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Battered and bloodied, Curtis limped onto the Bridge's tram platform. Deep down the tunnels, he fancied he heard faint shrieks of terror, but perhaps those were merely products of his demented imagination. He really hoped they were. Occasional simmers of pain emanated from his gut and shoulder wounds, but Somatic Gel worked wonders. His RIG's self-repair systems also knit their own tears together nicely. After his encounter with the alien monster, he'd been lucky or blessed enough to not meet any more.

_What was it, anyway?! _he wondered as he wobbled down the final hallway. _That's not what I thought aliens would look like! _There'd been thousands of interpretations over the centuries, ranging from nearly-human to amorphous blobs. But _these_ looked more like cadavers. If he didn't know better, he'd think they were zombies. The undead were far more ridiculous than extraterrestrials, though.

How did they evade detection for so long? The Aegis VII colony had been active for years! Why did they just show up and attack now? _Maybe they lived underground and the planet crack provoked them? Does the Marker have something to do with this?! _He floundered in the dark for explanations but found none. All he knew was that this simple job had become more dangerous than he ever could have imagined.

Finally, he reached the door to the Command Center, but it was inaccessible. The normally blue hologram was instead red; they'd locked the area down, though he wasn't sure if that was because they knew of the threat or whether it was standard procedure. Regardless, he hobbled over to the one-way mirror beside it and knocked.

Footsteps broached the bulkhead a moment later, and someone gasped. There were whispers, and Curtis suddenly felt embarrassed, yet he wasn't sure why. After more hushed tones, the entry slid open, revealing four people in body armor – tough, but his full body RIG was better.

"God, you have no idea how – " Before he could finish the sentence, they seized him. Two held him down, one handcuffed him, and one held a Divet pistol against his head. Were it not for the latter, he would have struggled. As it was, he merely shouted about them being morons for taking down their own crew member! What kind of guards were these?! "You want my ID?! Curtis Mason, Class 5 – " Their glares alone shut him up.

From this sideways angle and kissing cold metal, his eyes flew around the room, looking for help. The Main Atrium was as much a wonder as anything he'd yet seen: very large with an elevator shaft leading to different subdecks in the middle. The only problems were the very large windows. Though they may have been resilient, a single asteroid piercing them would asphyxiate everyone here if the ADS failed. The crew stared at him with wide eyes.

"Captain, we got somebody. He was trying to get in," one of the guards said via RIG-Link. Nothing but static, of course.

"Of course I wanted in! I needed to get away from – " He was again cut off, this time by a gunbutt to the head. His vision sloshed as they hauled him away, his feet dragging on the floor. He groaned in pain, but he didn't _think _he was bleeding.

People watched as he passed them before uneasily focusing back on their work. Aegis VII loomed large through the window, spectacular and boring as ever. Reminded him of seeing Saturn from the Sprawl, but that planet was far more interesting. Same dull gray façade with a gaping crater and the colony. _Wait a second… _He snapped back to lucidity after realizing something: the outpost's lights were off! _If they can take out an entire settlement, we're fucked. _

With that in mind, he didn't have the strength to protest as the goons dragged him down a flight of stairs and into the threshold of what could only be the Captain's Nest. Normally, he'd be shaking in his boots at the idea of being brought before the vessel's king (though he still had no idea what he'd done wrong), but he was numb after all that'd happened. What was a mere man next to decaying, murderous alien monstrosities? One of them pounded on the door. "Captain Mathius, we've got an intruder. There's blood all over him – he must have gone insane and killed someone."

_Ah. _He didn't consider that arriving at the command center drenched in gore would raise any eyebrows. _But that means they don't know about the aliens! _If any made it up here, they'd be more understanding.

"Throw him in the brig," the Captain's muffled voice said.

"Wait! I was attacked! The thing wasn't even human!" The stock was about to come down again, and he braced for the impact, ready to add to his pain, but Mathius opened the door before the officer could deliver it.

He'd changed since Curtis saw him at the Unitologist sermon a week prior. That Mathius was fiery and intense while this one looked lethargic. Similar alterations befell everyone, but it was especially noticeable on such a powerful person. Remnants of that energy remained, though.

"Thank you all, but I'll take it from here," he said, piercing eyes trained firmly on him. The guards looked at each other, shrugged and departed. The two remained still for a moment; Curtis tried to express his thanks but couldn't find words among the chaos. "Come in."

He didn't know what to make of the situation yet obeyed without question. Mathius may have been a little unhinged, but he didn't seem completely mad, and he _was _the Captain. What else could he do? All eyes trained on him as he entered, making him hunch over. Even in this time of great crisis, he still feared attention, of all things.

"You're pathetic," the Shadow Man whispered from a dark corner. Curtis wondered when he'd appear. For once, he inclined to agree. "But you can be so much more in the arms of the Universal Awakening. Of Convergence."

Curtis wanted to yell at it to be quiet, but that wouldn't exactly have aided his "I'm not insane angle," so he held his tongue as it smirked at him. Sighing, the Captain took a Kirkwall's Whiskey branded flask from his hip and drank. He really didn't blame him. Illuminated by the yellow light of a large holographic image of the planet below, the environment appeared sickly, as did its inhabitants.

"Chic, pull up the colony feed," he said. Seemed sober enough; his speech wasn't slurred, at least not yet. A man wearing glasses near the prow dutifully responded. Glasses – hadn't seen any since they'd boarded. People didn't need them anymore thanks to LASIK and other corrective surgeries being so cheap.

_They make a cool fashion statement, though. Or maybe he's just afraid of getting his eye poked out by one of those crazy machines. _Grim-faced, the man deftly tapped a few buttons on his holographic keyboard, changing inexplicable readouts and charts to something more… visceral.

Videos of death, destruction and terror unraveled before him: halls strewn with corpses, strange, fleshy growths along the walls and ceiling, and, worst of all, monsters. He didn't have the stomach to take in all the carnage, so he glanced down. Others reacted similarly, turning away from the horror. He thought living through the Mars Independence Riots desensitized him to barbarity, but _this _made him want to vomit.

"They're aboard?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Curtis nodded, and an awful hush fell over the company.

"And they can survive decapitation," he hesitantly added. That knowledge would only scare them more, but they needed it to gain the upper hand. Mathius took yet another long swig. Suddenly, a flash of movement on one of the screens caught his eye.

Four people snuck through an abandoned corridor, desperately scanning for monsters. It brought him a little comfort knowing that there were some survivors. The footage was grainy, but he identified an older gentleman, a young woman of about twenty, a man in a P-Sec (Planetside Security) uniform and –

"Gabe?!" The party's final member was undoubtedly him. _Guess he went down on official business, after all. _He hadn't considered his friends since killing the creature, much to his dismay. Of course, how much longer could he last against such abominations?

But what about Sam and Nicole?! Were they OK?! The uncertainty drove him mad, and he suddenly wished he'd never tried to be social! While he didn't want anyone to die, the thought of his _friends _being in danger ate a hole through his spirit.

"You know Sergeant Weller?" Mathius cynically asked while looking at the same broadcast. Before Curtis could respond, the Captain continued for him. "Good cop. That's among the last of the videos we received from half-an-hour ago. It's been dead air ever since. Hate to say it, but they're all probably dead." No, he actually _didn't _sound too upset.

But none of this was important. Well, it was, but not compared with what he came to do! Fighting to maintain a calm tone even as his heart broke, he said, "Monsters or not, I'm here to talk to Mining Director Dallas. There was an accident and I need his help."

Mathius pondered a moment before nodding. By this point, the gruesome videos switched back over to meaningless charts and graphs so the Captain's private team could continue trying to save the ship. He was about to speak when an exceptionally grainy vid log came through, popping up on his chest's holo-projector.

_It's the woman Gabe called to report me_, he realized. The static cleared after a moment and he saw an exhausted redheaded woman over the Captain's shoulder.

"Vincent to Bridge, over!"

"I want a report, Vincent!" She was clearly about to give him one, but protocol and all that, and the fact he was kind of an ass.

"Something's going on, sir; something _alien _is attacking us!"

"So it's true," he muttered while pinching the bridge of his nose.

Someone tapped Curtis on the shoulder, making him whirl around and tune out the rest of that conversation.

"Heard you were looking for Dallas," the man before him said, leading him over to an unpopulated corner.

"You're him, I take it?"

"Yeah. What're you here for?" For someone named after two former Texan cities, Curtis almost expected him to be a literal space bronco with a ten-gallon hat and pointy boots. Of course, he looked perfectly normal.

_I wish cowboys were still a thing. _He'd never seen a real bovine, now that he thought about it, and what little meat he could afford was grown in petri dishes from cloned tissue. Still, he'd encountered an old-timer or two on jobs who jokingly called him "Cowboy Curtis", as if that meant something. "The sealant grids went down when that shuttle crashed. Two people from Bay 10 are dead, and probably others, as well."

"Damn it," he spat, gazing hatefully over at the Captain. People already turned against him, it seemed. Curtis didn't know the specifics, but if a mutiny happened, he wanted to be far, far away. The thought made him cringe; were things so bad that rebellion seemed probable? He'd never heard of such a thing on a CEC vessel before. Dallas' eyes wandered to the planetary hologram in the chamber's center. "There's not much I can do – not with comms down, anyway."

_Wait a second… _Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Mathius speaking to Vincent. Though he couldn't make out specific words, the tone sounded heated. "They're talking just fine!"

"The Captain has closed-circuit channels to the RIGS and offices of administrators: Chief Security, Chief Science, Mining Director – that's me – First Engineer and Senior Medical. They're the ship's backbone, and they operate on a frequency that whatever the Hell's happening hasn't affected."

That made sense, but it hardly put his mind at ease. In fact, mentioning the Senior Medical Officer threw a smoldering ember of a question into his mind. "Is the SMO OK?"

"Dr. Brennan? Yeah, as far as I know." Curtis breathed a silent sigh of relief. That was a start. "In fact, only one of them hasn't picked up: First Engineer Jacob Temple. His vital monitors show he's alive, but Mathius hasn't been able to raise him."

_Vital monitors? _It'd slipped his mind that the Bridge could monitor the health of individual crew members, but that itself might have been fucked with the lack of comms.

Curtis at last saw where this conversation headed. He often lacked foresight, but it loomed plain as day in this case. "You want me to find him."

Dallas hesitated before answering, but he reluctantly nodded. "Temple is our best shot at getting out alive. He's a brilliant engineer and technician; get him up here, and I'll bet he could fix the comm blackout and those sealant grids in under an hour."

"Respectfully, sir, can't we just get the fuck out of here?" Curtis whispered, glancing back at Mathius. "We have escape shuttles! Nobody else has to be killed." He'd never backtalked a superior officer before, but this was the end of the world. If they stayed, they were all going to die from either aliens or insanity. He didn't care if insubordination cost him his salary anymore; he'd take poor and alive over rich and dead.

Again, Dallas glared daggers at the Captain. "He won't even consider it. Says the goddamn Marker is too big to fit on one and the ship might explode or get pulled into the planet by the time someone comes to retrieve it. I say fuck the rock and let's save ourselves." The nerve… if Dallas told the truth (which he was inclined to believe), Mathius made the mistake of his life. Surely the Marker would understand being abandoned for the greater good!

Wasn't Unitology all about the sanctity of life?! That was what he picked up from his readings, brief though they were! Besides, they'd gotten information from the thing already! Even if they couldn't recover this Marker, surely it would make finding another easier! The Captain would have the blood of Altman-knew how many on his hands… but most of the crew still seemed behind him.

However, Curtis didn't like Dallas' plan, either. Coming up here was one thing, but going on a wild goose chase around the ship with evil aliens murdering people was another entirely. He didn't want to be anyone's pawn.

Still, a couple things made him agree. First, if this _did _become a full-blown mutiny, the Bridge would turn into a bloodbath. He'd rather take his chances with monsters than angry people with guns. Second, Sam worked in Engineering. Curtis didn't know whether he was on shift at the time, but he _needed _to find him. Gabe was probably dead and Nicole was safe enough, but maybe he could help _one _of his friends.

_You can't save them all_. The supervisor's words ran rampant through his skull along with a psychic surge of pain. The Shadow Man laughed at his displeasure. Could he even save one?

"I'll find Temple," he said with all the confidence he could muster.

"Much appreciated," Dallas replied. "You better go now. Shit's getting crazy out there. I'll do what I can with the sealant grids here and send someone down to Mining Administration, as well. Good luck."

…

The halls used to be spotless, but now they were flecked with blood or dirt in places. They weren't being cleaned like they should. Nicole trailed her assistant down them to the ER. He ran in out of the blue during her research, practically dragging her along. Though she tried to listen, Isaac's voice and flashes of Marker symbols played havoc with her senses. "Perry, what the Hell is going on here?" she managed to say in a bout of lucidity.

All communication was still down except her private channel with the Captain. By this point, she was scared. Modern technology didn't stop working like that. Well, not exactly "modern" – the Ishimura was built 62 years ago – but close enough! Though initially hesitant to believe Dr. Kyne's "the Marker is alive" hypothesis, she couldn't deny what unfolded before her.

It spoke to them.

The repercussions were enormous, even bigger than the Marker itself. If it really did induce coherent hallucinations via emulating brainwaves, then it was _alive_. Humanity had long attempted to create artificial intelligence, but nothing worked. They built increasingly powerful computers, but nothing sapient. These machines could calculate millions of equations per second and navigate between stars, but not a single one passed the Turing Test. Eventually, people stopped trying, though "AI" was erroneously slapped onto such machines for marketing purposes.

This was the real deal. An alien intelligence embedded within the crystalline structure could explain so much about their universe. They just had to get it to stop killing them.

"There's injured coming from all over the ship. Babbling about 'monsters', but it's clearly just injuries sustained from that shuttle crash compounded with dementia." Sounded bad.

_Monsters. _An odd word. The only thing she'd use to describe it were those beings from her recent nightmares. She looked at Perry and shuddered. "First off, I'm glad you're with me. Second, how many staff do we have?"

"About a dozen. There's twice as many injured so far, but I suspect that number will keep going up. This one woman from Mining said the sealant grids got knocked out and sucked people into space."

"Fuck." She wasn't wont to use such language on the job, and it showed when Perry craned his head around to look at her. What else could she possibly say, though?! Everything fell apart, people died and it was all the Captain's fault! She agreed with Dr. Domuss – this was all on his head! After seeing patients, she'd call and see if Dr. Kyne got through to him about leaving. If so, they could all go home. If not, even more would die. "What a fucking disaster."

Regardless, when this all ended, she expected Mathius would be stripped of his post and painted as one of the ineptest corporate stooges in history. "Perry, round up as many doctors and nurses as you can – I don't care if they're qualified or not. We're going to have a _long _shift ahead of us."

**1 Hour Post-Outbreak**

Curtis whistled to himself as he waited at the tram station. It looked like all the others; a dead, gray, steamy tube wandering into eternal darkness. A casual observer would think nothing unusual about it. Behind that calm façade, though, his mind screamed.

Aliens! Hallucinations! Extraterrestrial obelisks! Mutiny and insanity!

He was only a miner! How was he supposed to cope with – let alone survive – all this?! Couldn't cry, though. For one thing, that wouldn't help anyone. For another, this was so unreal that he scarcely believed it. What if this was all a dream? He probably sat in the Ishimura's psych ward, babbling incoherently about his delusions.

_No. No, this is real! _he reminded himself yet again. If he didn't take this seriously, he was already good as dead. It'd be easy, though. All he needed to do was get to Engineering. It was at the exact opposite end of the ship, sure, but the gondola made it a cakewalk. Go there, get Temple and get out. Simple. _Would have been nice if they sent somebody from security, though._

No, he wouldn't forgive Mathius for this – or Dallas, for that matter, but he wasn't the one in charge of that. The Captain agreed with Dallas' plan but said there weren't enough officers to go around. _Bastard just thinks I'm expendable. _Perhaps he was; how useful would miners be in an alien invasion? If this didn't pan out, though… well, just how tight was the security on the escape shuttles, anyway?

Footsteps approached. His fists involuntarily tightened; probably a human, but maybe not. He kept a close eye on the passage that they emanated from, slowly getting closer. As the figure emerged from shadows, he released a breath he didn't know he held. It was neither alien nor Shadow Man, but that doctor he'd encountered a week ago in Nicole's office. "You're Dr. Kyne, right?" he asked as the portly man approached.

"Do I know you?" he asked; Curtis replied by pointing to the small scar on his forehead and letting the man's brain do the rest. "Ah, I remember." He smirked. "'Curtis Mason, Class 5 Miner, RIG number 492770,' if I recall." How did he remember all that?

"You're good with numbers," he commented as Kyne joined him on the bench. They were the only two present, surrounded by fog and metal and distant screams, but, again, they may have been his imagination.

"Comes with the territory of being Chief Science Officer. You've got to pay attention to everything." They shot the breeze for a couple of minutes in the dark, which blew Curtis' mind. Making small talk during this cataclysm felt simultaneously reassuring and wrong. People suffered and died as they chatted, and there was nothing he could do until the trolley arrived. That was one topic they avoided. "You're trying to find First Engineer Temple, correct?"

"Yeah. Do you know where on Engineering he could be?" He figured the Chief Science Officer would be a little familiar with that deck – the physics of starship engines were probably right up his alley.

"I don't know. Likely the Control Room, but it's a large deck." The tram finally rolled up before he could say more, howling like a demon from Hell. It ground to a halt, and its door slid open. Nobody inside; Curtis didn't know if that was good or very, very bad. "I myself am heading for Medical, so I'll accompany you."

"Of course." They boarded the gondola, which departed after a minute; he saw the tunnel wall fly along through the car door's slats. Splotches of blood stained the fabric seats, signs of the spreading terror. _The injured probably got off at Medical. _At least the garish holographic advertisements that illuminated the interior provided a modicum of comfort. Curtis wistfully browsed the products that he might never experience again: SUN Cola, Lightspeed Bars, and especially Peng, which got him through many hard nights. Looking back, though, it wasn't enough.

Sex was great, of course. He'd slept with plenty of women – and a few men, just to see what it was like – but it never lasted beyond a one-night stand. He was neither attractive nor intelligent nor funny nor charming enough, and those relationships fell apart, just like all his others. At the end of the world, all he wanted was someone both to hold and to hold _him_. The aliens might still kill him, but at least he wouldn't die alone.

As if mocking him, Kyne asked, "Do you have a family?"

"No," he choked out, burying his head in his hands. To hide his shame, he triggered his helmet, which quickly manifested around his skull. "And I never did."

"Normally, I would be sympathetic, but I'm envious, in this case. To die with no responsibilities to anyone… it sounds like a glorious thing." The doctor didn't seem optimistic about their chances, but Curtis maintained a spark of hope in his chest.

"What about you?" Perhaps thinking about his own relations would give Kyne a shot in the arm.

"Yes, my wife – Amelia. I hadn't seen her for a very long time, but she's on the ship, too. I've talked to her." The pain of having a loved one, even if estranged, in this nightmare would have been more than he could bear. The doctor hunched over with an anguished frown on his face. Curtis actually considered hugging him… but then they arrived at their first stop.

"Now arriving at the Mining Deck," the AI chirped. Again, the platform was barren. That either meant things weren't too bad or were _extremely _bad.

Suddenly, an idea leapt fully formed into his cortex. He complained earlier about not having a "weapon". But now…

"Hey! Where are you going?!" Kyne shouted as he rushed out of the gondola and toward the RIG Room. "This thing's on an automated schedule!"

"I'll be right back!" he yelled, rounding a corner. He nearly slipped yet managed to activate his grav-boots just in time, which righted him. Learned that little trick in the Magpies. _Thank you, Captain Malyech. _Throwing caution to the wind, he was through the sliding, metal door before it'd fully opened; this was his only chance!

This room, too, was empty, and not just of people. There were no RIGs, no helpful items… and no tools, either, nor stasis or kinesis modules. They were all being used by people down below. Only the scent of chemicals remained. _Idiot. Should have picked one up earlier. _He probably could have scrounged something up if he had more time, but the tram left in under a minute! _Damn it. How will I defend myself? _Firearms were few and far between, limited to Divets and a couple of Pulse Rifles for senior officers, so he doubted he'd be able to get one (not to mention he'd never fired a gun in his life). Mining tools were his best bet.

Sighing, he was about to sprint back the way he came when something in a corner caught his eye. His spirits lifted as he ran closer; it was a Line Gun! Not the same one as earlier; he'd left that in the Mining Bay, but that didn't matter. Now he had a fighting chance! He scooped it up along with a few large power cells – "Line Racks", some called them – and hustled back toward the tram. As always, his footfalls reflected down the dim hallway, filling him with dread. Who knew what nightmares lurked around each corner?

The tool was bulky, but his RIG gave him the strength and speed to make it in seconds before the transport departed. He crashed into the opposite wall before dropping into the bench, sweating and panting. "Sorry… needed some defense. Couldn't find any for you, though."

"That's quite all right; doubt I could handle one." He puzzled over the device in Curtis' hands a moment, probably not even sure which end the plasma came out of. "What exactly do you call that?"

"It's a Line Gun," he replied, "something used to break up larger, tougher asteroids. You can shoot wide beams of plasma with it or eject the power cells, which overload and explode."

"Sounds like a useful weapon." That last word irked Curtis a little. He might have to start calling it a "weapon", as well, but he preferred to think of all mining apparatus as elegant tools. It was a shame he had to sully them by killing aliens.

The next leg of the journey seemed to pass more slowly. Boldened by his success and the fact he hadn't run into any monsters or strange occurrences during his jaunt, he talked a little more freely. He didn't know how it happened, but he somehow mentioned that he was a Unitologist.

"So am I," Kyne replied. "Not surprising, considering there's so many of us aboard, but it's always fascinated me how members of the same faith can come from such different… backgrounds." Curtis chuckled despite himself. That surprised him, as well.

"For the last couple of days, I mean. I'm one of the people who converted when the Marker got discovered, though I'd considered it for a long time." Kyne's face darkened as he mentioned the Marker for whatever reason. "It's incredible to have something to believe in. I'm new to all this, but I've never been part of anything like this before. Not gonna pretend my life changed overnight, yet I'm excited to learn more."

"About that," the doctor said with downcast expression. "Mr. Mason, may I share something with you that might be lost on my more _devout _colleagues?"

Considering there were aliens loose on the ship, he couldn't exactly say Kyne's dour attitude surprised him, but it was an about-face from a few moments ago. "Knock yourself out."

"We always believed that when we located a Marker, it would speak to us. In my research, I've found it has. These visions of loved ones and impending death we've had? They are its doing."

_Oh. _It was obvious now that the doc said so. Why else would they begin hallucinating right after they located it? "Is it evil?" he blurted out, "Or does it not understand what it's doing?"

"I'm not sure," he said, leaning forward and crinkling his nose. "I'm inclined to believe that millions of years of abandonment have driven it mad, and it in turn is passing that madness onto us. It's a notion many would consider heresy; I simply desired to share my thoughts."

They sat in relative silence for a few seconds. The quiet was broken by rushing wind and whirring electromagnets that impelled the vehicle forward, yet these noises only added to the stillness. Then came screams and the bitter odor of blood.

Curtis first believed them to be hallucinations, but they grew in intensity as the moments passed. Kyne noticed them, too, whipping his head around.

"Now arriving at the Flight Deck."

Curtis was never a hero; he hadn't done a single laudable act in his life, and killing one alien didn't count. He wanted it to stay that way. It'd be so easy to cower in the corner and wait for the tram to press on. Somehow, though, he couldn't. The people out there were in danger, but he possessed the means to help them: a "weapon".

The shrieks deafened him. Familiar roars intermingled. Curtis stood at the threshold, the Line Gun raised and ready to fire. His heart thudded, sweat poured down his face and his entire body trembled at what was about to transpire. At last, the door slid open.

Curtis was trampled by the crush of people who swarmed into the gondola, crying and screaming and wailing. "Ow," he gasped as someone stomped on his stomach wound. _Should have seen this coming. _Unfortunately, they couldn't just haul ass. The tram parked at each of its stops for a minute; could he survive for 60 seconds? Lurching up, he snatched the tool before somebody accidentally kicked it away in the chaos and shuffled forward.

Three monsters shambled toward him, flesh flayed from their faces, but their handiwork was even more distressing. Half a dozen people lay dead in pools of blood, many missing their heads, legs or arms. Despite his experiences in the Mars Independence Riots, he'd never seen anything like this and foolishly hoped he never would again.

He was too angry to form words; fight-or-flight instinct kicked in, and it was strong. Feeling the adrenaline flow through him, he knew which option to pick. The people behind him cowered, maybe thinking him brave, though he really wasn't. Two things set him apart from them: his rage and his gun.

One thing growled as it closed in on him, and he thought it might have grinned with a lipless mouth. He did it one better, though – he roared. Then he flipped off the Line Gun's safety, which spread its barrel as wide as the tram's door, and he fired.

The blast of plasma took just short of forever to reach its target. Blue energy crackled as it ionized the air, generating sparks and the scent of ozone, which momentarily overwhelmed that of gore. The tool recoiled and sounded like a thunder crack – appropriate, considering its output resembled lightning.

Finally, the shot nailed the monster in the chest; Curtis felt his mouth form a small smile. Blowing their heads off didn't work, but chopping them in half sure did the trick! His confidence faltered as the beast merely stumbled back a little – a strip of its torso glowed red-hot and smoldered, but they must not have felt pain, for it merely howled and charged. Panicking, he unloaded again and again, firing blindly at the monstrosity.

It stumbled forward, each shot blowing more of its torso away, but that barely slowed it down! Mere feet from him, he drained the final power cell, fully prepared to resort to fisticuffs again. This one, however, split the beast in two at the waist. Its disparate halves flailed for a moment before they fell off the platform and bounced into the tunnel below, earning a cheer from the crowd and a laugh from himself.

That confidence died as the other two monsters slowly shambled closer, scarcely noticing their brother's demise. _So they aren't pack animals, _he thought, fumbling to fish the last batch of Line Racks out of his pocket. They may have hunted in groups, but they seemed to lack cooperation. Otherwise, all three would have attacked at once.

His heart sank when he realized the power cells he loaded were his last; he'd have to kill both of these creatures with a total of five shots. It took that many of them to put down just one! Beheading didn't work. Bifurcating was inefficient. They were nearly unkillable. What else could he possibly –

_Hmm. That might work. _If it didn't, everyone in the tram was good as dead.

The screams started up again as the second fiend scuttled onto the loading ramp. _Marker… please don't let me or these people die, _he silently prayed before firing. This time, he aimed lower.

As before, scorching plasma ripped air molecules apart before melting exposed flesh. Skin broiled and muscle withered; Curtis wanted to look away but couldn't. A split second later and the skeletal structure gave out, making it tumble to the floor sans two appendages. "Hah!" He wasn't done yet, though – this was a mere inconvenience for the abomination, which snarled and dragged itself forward with its blade-arms. Another dose of plasma remedied the issue, which rolled away as a torso with only the head attached.

The people behind him applauded; this suddenly became less a matter of survival and more a performance. Curtis was the matador, standing strong against the mindless beasts that feebly attempted to gore him! It was a necessary sentiment, he recognized. It – _he – _gave them hope. Who was he to deny them that even as he trembled at the final one's approach?

_One. _Its legs flew off. _Two. _As did the arms. _Three. _That was just for fun. Seemed going for their limbs did the trick. About 30 seconds remained; blood and broken bodies of the creatures littered the Flight Deck station. Anyone coming through later would be in for a Hell of a shock.

People swarmed up, laughing and crying, hugging him. He was their hero. A couple even asked for his autograph. Recognition: it was something fleeting in this hectic universe and something he'd always wanted to experience. After a life spent mingling with others at clubs, parties, jobs and so on, he was now at the center of them.

And it was too much.

"Get away!" he shouted, doing his best not to injure anyone with his enhanced brawn. They shrank back, once-smiling faces lined with confusion. How could they not thank the person who saved them? "Get off of me!" He always thought fame would be sweet, but having gotten a taste of it, he spat it right back out. The masses of humanity used to push him along with their tides, but now they crushed against him! It was the difference between gentle surf and storm surges. _How do celebrities handle this?!_

One man, however, wouldn't let go, profusely thanking him for saving his life. "You're welcome. Now let go." He continued to cling, either not hearing or too traumatized to comply. He should have been more patient, but discomfort and the adrenaline pumping through his veins heightened his ire. Without thinking, Curtis pulled the Line Gun up and pointed it in the man's face.

The whole car clamored away, and he immediately realized his mistake. "Sorry," he muttered before returning his gaze outside. 20 more seconds. His grip on the tool tightened. _And I'm out of ammo._

They all sat down as far away from him as they could, even opting to sit on the floor rather than anywhere near him. The same features of his RIG, like the mystique and strength it provided, now worked against him. Instead of seeing a powerful warrior, they perceived a hulking _monster_. Shame gnawed at his innards; he may not have liked being a hero, but being feared or even slightly associated with the things outside was far worse.

Sighing, he guarded the doorway in case another creature popped up in what time remained. This proved fortuitous, as a scrabbling noise approached from the primary hallway. To his surprise and disgust, it was a different alien species entirely. _Fuck! Are there __**more**__ of these things?!_

This breed looked far stranger than the blade-armed phenotype; it wasn't humanoid in the slightest, instead resembling a giant, jaundiced bat!

The thing made his skin crawl. However, it didn't seem interested in the humans… not live ones, anyway. It waddled over to a corpse and prodded it with a proboscis. _Guess it thinks dead people are tastier. _Ten seconds. He beckoned Dr. Kyne over; the thing didn't have time to reach them, and maybe the doctor could learn something from this bizarre animal.

"Oh my," he morosely exclaimed in his typically understated way. It prodded around for a moment before puncturing the man's head with its haustellum.

"Ugh!" Curtis recoiled in disgust. None of the others were in a position to witness the disgusting sight, but they could sure as Hell hear the squelches and spatters that emanated from the corpse. At first, he thought it sucked out organs to consume or something, but the truth proved far more chilling.

Five seconds. The cadaver shuddered, mutating before his eyes. Organs shifted. Muscles realigned. The waste heat generated from these changes must have been immense, for its skin boiled and cracked, falling away completely in most areas as it steamed. Finally, two bony scythes burst through its back, and the bat thing was already onto the next carcass. Leaping to its feet, the former human let out a mighty roar as it barreled toward the tram.

Curtis was too intimidated to move or even defend himself. Fortunately, the trolley did that for him. A split second away, the door slammed shut. The creature pounded on it a couple times, but they quickly sped away, leaving the aliens stranded on the Flight Deck.

Except they weren't aliens. They were people. _Dead _people! Curtis' legs gave out, and he fell limply to the floor. It should have been obvious, given that they reeked of rotting meat and resembled roadkill, but extraterrestrials were far more plausible than _zombies!_

Kyne passed out, falling backwards; Curtis barely caught him in time. People barely noticed, having problems of their own. Though battered and bloodied, all could survive until they reached Medical. Dry heaving, Curtis hauled the doctor over to the emptiest part of the car, where he quickly awoke.

"They're fucking _people,_" he whispered, sick to his stomach. "I killed human beings." They were monsters now, of course, and it was all in defense, but what if there was some kind of cure?!

"Not anymore," the doctor said, shivering. "I'll have to study the specifics of this… _infection, _but there was nothing human about them." He was inclined to listen to a man far more intelligent than him, but how could _anything _be known about something like this?!

_Is this related to the Marker? How? Is there a cure? How far has it spread and why so fast? _Millions of questions careened through his skull, actually making him dizzy. One of them stood head and shoulders above the rest – would he get out alive or be transformed into an undead monstrosity?

"Maybe these… Necromorphs… will change Mathius' mind about staying," Kyne muttered under his breath.

"Necromorphs?"

"Hmm? Yes, that seems an appropriate name. 'Dead forms', it means in Latin. More clinical than 'zombies' or 'ghouls.'" Funny. Giving the monsters a name made them a little less terrifying. It was a word suitable for otherworldly horrors, making them just a little bit more mundane. Why not try that with others? Designating different species of "Necromorph" might make them more controllable, as well. Plus, it provided a distraction from the body horror he'd witnessed.

The humanoid one came first.

_Stabber? _he thought. _Jabber? Sticker? Impaler? _None of these were great. They were either too silly or gruesome. _Slasher? Slasher. _It sounded right; apt and evoking without too much viscerality. As for the bat-looking one, only a single word appropriately described it.

_Infector._

That was it. The tram sped along. People cried. The Shadow Man leered at him. "Go away," he whispered. He would have screamed, but these people were scared enough of him already.

"Now arriving at the Engineering Deck."

Oh, right. That's why he volunteered for this suicide mission. Maybe Sam was still alive, but if the "Necromorphs" got here first… well, it'd only been a little over an hour since the outbreak started, and nobody exactly clambered to return to the Flight Deck and search for friends or loved ones.

"This is my stop," he told Kyne as they walked to the door. No mutilated corpses on the ground: an auspicious sign. "Make sure these people get help."

"I will, and I'll call Captain Mathius on the way over. If he doesn't listen to reason, I'll be forced to invoke Maritime Law Article 54-69, which states that any insane official is unfit for duty. And if I may say so… good luck."

"Thank you." Taking a deep breath, Curtis stepped out of the trolley and down the primary hallway. His heart sank as the tram pulled away, but he didn't dare look back, instead pressing deeper into the unknown.

…

Nicole zigzagged through the ER, trying to keep a spring in her step despite her exhaustion. She didn't know how long it had been since she last slept, but she suspected rest wouldn't come any time soon.

More injured arrived on every gondola, most of them from the Flight Deck. Made sense; the shuttle crashed there, so its personnel naturally bore the brunt of blast. The damage, however, confounded her. Some were standard burns or broken bones, but others were far stranger, such as bite marks and stab wounds. If she didn't know better, she would have suspected feral animals were loose on the ship.

After consulting a triage nurse, she began in earnest. She assigned surgeons to stabilize the particularly bad cases and patched up non-life-threatening ones herself, applying bandages, giving stitches, splinting fractures and liberally applying Somatic Gel. This was all stuff she'd learned in Pre-Med and mere child's play next to when she went over to the serious injuries. Grafting on biological prosthetics was never fun, but some of those people needed it.

She didn't have time to listen as she worked, tuning it all out (even, reluctantly, Isaac), but one word remained consistent, uttered by every anguished mouth: "monsters".

_Are they still going on about that? How ridiculous. _She began to have her doubts, though. Upon calling Mathius a little earlier to beg him to abandon the system, she asked about the veracity of such rumors, to which he was evasive. By itself, that was merely a mark of incompetence. But these injuries made them seem plausible.

They'd already discovered an alien artifact! Perhaps there were strange creatures down there, too, and they reached the Ishimura via the crashed shuttle. Still, she wasn't completely ready to endorse the idea and therefore wrapped up the cases in silence. Putting the final stitch into her last baseline patient, she scanned the room. All her staff were accounted for. Well, all except –

"Mercer."

Of course he'd shirked his duty and ran off. "Fucking Unis," she muttered under her breath, which caught the attention of the woman she'd just operated on. Her expression, despite the pain, was one of confusion and disgust. "I, uh, didn't mean all of you," she meekly amended. The woman couldn't do much either way and so collapsed again.

_Damn it, _she thought. There wasn't time to hunt Mercer down, so she merely shook her head and started toward the ICU, fuming. She'd give him a dressing-down the next time she saw him. If he slipped up again, he was fucking fired. Mathius handpicked him for the spot, but to Hell with him, too. Before she knew it, she was there and in a sterilization chamber.

Time flew. These people had it rough. Though most were now in stable condition, they could relapse at any time, and her gut said that more people already arrived.

Questions plagued her as she incised and cauterized with laser-based medical tools. All physicians would consider solipsism during surgery irresponsible and dangerous, but she couldn't help it; worries and whispers tore her mind away, leaving her body operating on muscle memory. Fortunately, she was a really good MD.

_I hope Curtis, Gabe and Sam are OK. If only I could call them. _They were the only friends she'd had in the last two years. That was when she began dating Isaac and really leaned into her career. She simply didn't have time for casual friendship. Maybe that was a mistake, though…

The man who's arm she'd just sawed off began screaming; not enough painkillers, apparently. She directed a nurse to give him another shot of morphine, and he promptly passed out. _I'm not a squeamish person, at least. _"I'm ready."

With that, her assistant presented a cloned arm straight from the BPC. Amazing how body parts could be grown in vitro in matters of minutes; seeing cells multiply before her eyes was always incredible. _And I still hear Isaac. _His voice was louder now and a bit more disturbing.

_He's going to die, anyway. Why not take a break and come with me?_

"I'm sorry. This is too important." The nurse looked at her quizzically before shaking her head.

With that, she aligned his bloody stump with the new appendage and began applying skin grafts. In the old days, replantation took whole surgery teams hours of hard labor, but now it could be performed by a single skilled physician in several minutes. Didn't make the process itself any less jarring, though. One wrong move and he might be permanently crippled.

With her NoonTech microscope in hand, she realigned every nerve, muscle and tendon, which were soldered together by Dragonfly nanobots armed with minute quantities of Somatic Gel. The robots did more than her, honestly. Ten minutes later, she was finished.

She exited the glass surgical chamber and discarded her scrubs and mask for new ones. Throughout, Isaac still whispered, begging her to come back to him. She knew she was losing her mind, but she didn't care. With everything going to Hell, she'd take her boyfriend's words of comfort even if they and he weren't real.

More cases. Always more. How much time passed? It could have been minutes or hours, and it didn't really matter. They just kept coming. Isaac spoke to her. Symbols flashed before her eyes. She wanted it to be over.

_When will it?_


	6. A Simple Errand

**1 Hour, 30 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

_Control Room. Where's the Control Room? _Curtis thought, sidestepping the odd fleeing person as he travelled. He tried to ask them directions, but all ignored him, and he wasn't about to restrain one and calm them down; what if a Necromorph popped up when they were distracted and killed them both? After all, he was out of ammo.

Other people barricaded themselves in supply rooms; from the red holograms on many doors, he knew they were locked, and others appeared to have been welded shut. Shouts and whispers came from within; people panicked, and so did he, though his agitation was a little less pronounced. If it didn't seem like the world's end before, it did now. How long did he expect to survive if people hid and stockpiled? He trembled at the thought of the dwindling crew being hunted down and butchered like animals.

So far, though, he hadn't encountered any hostiles. The biggest threat was all the exposed machinery. The same could be said for the Mining Deck, but this was far worse; pipes and wiring and exposed circuitry lined the walls. They weren't very dangerous to him because of his RIG, but less protected people could easily have been electrocuted or burned.

After some fiddling, he finally oriented himself with his RIG's map. He needed to learn this labyrinth of a ship quickly to have any hope of survival. As he set off down the right hallway, he encountered a man and a woman casually chatting and laughing in the corridor's middle. He thought he hallucinated again, but after blinking a few times, he still saw them plain as day. _I need to get them out of here._

"Excuse me," he called out as he walked forward. The two of them turned to look at him with a little interest. "The Control Room's this way, right? I need to find First Engineer Temple." The woman looked straight through him.

"That's right, though Temple might be having a bit of trouble." The words would have sounded normal enough by themselves, but something about her inflection made him suspicious about… he didn't even know what.

_You're paranoid, _he told himself. Really, though, paranoia might be critical with zombies afoot. The people who barricaded themselves inside would at least be alive when these two got mauled. "You both need to get somewhere safe. Haven't you heard about what's happening?"

"Yes. It's glorious, isn't it?" the man asked, which made Curtis step back. An angry heat grew within his chest; how could he crack such jokes when people died?! Only after seeing the genuine smile did he realize the guy was completely serious. That made it much worse.

"That's not the word I'd use," Curtis spat, stalking past them. More power to them if they wanted to die. They seemed sane enough.

"Just another secularist!" the man called after him. "If you change your mind, though, the Marker welcomes all into Convergence!"

Oh, they were Unitologists. Curtis cringed but couldn't even pretend to be surprised. "I believe, too!" he shouted back. "And I also believe you should run away!" Shaking his head, he continued on his path, fear momentarily supplanted by doubt.

What if they were right? What if this horror _was _part of Convergence – the glorious unification of mankind? If so, perhaps this was an awful, intermediary step? Maybe Kyne was correct in his theory that this Marker grew insane over millennia, which perverted the process? Or the Universal Awakening might be something beyond mortal comprehension. He wouldn't give up his newfound faith because of this, though. Not yet.

_Uh, Marker? I pray that you convince those two idiots to leave. And also help me find Temple. And keep people safe. Amen. _He needed to work on his praying skills.

A minute later, he reached the Control Room. **"Must be at least a Class 5 Engineer to enter," **a small holo-sign above the door read. Yeah, fuck that. He placed his hand on the hologram, which fortunately didn't discriminate, and stepped in. The chamber was lit with harsh yellow spotlights, which blinded him for a moment.

"Who the Hell are you?" someone asked as his eyes struggled to adapt.

Didn't matter at all that the tone was hostile. _Finally, some non-crazy people! _Vision sliding into focus through his visor, he saw two men in Standard Engineering RIGs, one in an Advanced and one in an Intermediate – "Sam?!" Curtis asked, hardly believing his luck! There he was, alive and well! _Oh, thank Altman._

His friend immediately recognized him despite the helmet. "Curtis. It's nice to see a friendly face… figuratively speaking." Relief poured down on him like rain. The feeling was indescribable and new; he'd never had anyone to fear for.

"Sorry to interrupt the reunion, but what's going on?" the man in the nicest RIG, obviously some figure of importance, asked. Given that importance, Curtis suspected this might be exactly the person he searched for.

"Name's Curtis. I'm here to find First Engineer Jacob Temple. Captain Mathius needs his help fixing all the comm trouble and reactivating the Relaynet."

As he hoped, the man replied with, "I'm Temple. But…" That last word and the slow trailing away, however, killed those aspirations. "Well, we have bigger issues. That's why I haven't contacted Mathius; there hasn't been time." Damn. If contacting Earth to request assistance was secondary, something very bad happened on this deck. "Somehow, the engines have disconnected from their fuel supply."

Only then did Curtis notice the deafening silence. There was no rumbling or chugging of massive machines here; something killed them. "What does that mean for the ship?" The other two whose names he didn't know kept preparing their supplies behind him.

"It means our orbit's decaying. In ten hours at most, the Ishimura will be pulled into Aegis VII and we'll all be dead. If the Captain doesn't want us using the escape shuttles – and he's a fucking moron for that – we have to fix it or there won't be anything left by the time help arrives."

He shuddered. Only four people stood between them and getting pulverized by trillions of tons of rock. Who knew what other vital systems were on the verge of collapse? If this was as important as Temple claimed, though, he needed to help. Sure, he lacked even the most basic engineering know-how, but having an extra set of hands along might be important. His knowledge about Necromorphs, however rudimentary, might also assist. Besides… well, if this was the end, he didn't want to die alone. "Let me come."

To his great surprise, Temple didn't argue – no time! "Fine. You look equipped enough. Those monsters are on other parts of the deck, but I don't think they've made it to Fuel Storage yet. Still, keep that Line Gun close and ready. We'll have our own weapons in a minute."

"I hope you know what you're doing," Irons said to him as they finished getting the rest of their small tools together – wrenches, wire cutters, calipers and so on. So did he. Regardless, there were five of them! Safety in numbers and all that.

The other two men introduced themselves as Danvers and Henderson, and both looked scared out of their wits.

Temple took the lead, opening a door with many ominous symbols printed beside it: images of lightning bolts, skulls and the nuclear trefoil. Far from being intimidated, though, they actually calmed him. The Necromorphs would be in just as much danger as them in such a harsh environment! They all activated their RIGs' helmets and trudged down a dim metal catwalk; four other people made the walls push down around him. The RIG didn't help with all the numbers and data pressing into his retinas. _It'll be fine. _Liar.

Temple, good leader that he was, led the pack. Irons was second, then Danvers, then Henderson and Curtis was dead last. _Dead… yeah. _He didn't like the idea of a Necromorph taking him from behind, but would the middle really have been that much safer? They reached an open area with engineering tools scattered about; it must have been their own version of the Mining Deck's RIG Room. Speaking of which, a couple suits hung from racks on the ceiling. In the dark, they looked like people impaled on meat hooks.

"Everyone grab a tool and plenty of ammo, double time. I don't know how much time we have left to fix the engine, let alone how much until those monsters get here…"

"They're called Necromorphs," Curtis replied, scavenging for anything that might be useful for him. "And the easiest way to kill them is to cut off their limbs." Perhaps Temple was about to ask how he knew that, but then he tilted his head down toward the Line Gun.

He dug up a few more power cells that, while not Line Racks, were close enough; mining equipment utilized technology compatible with other large machinery. Otherwise, he would have been screwed the moment he left Mining. He also found a small Med Pack, which he pocketed. No stasis or kinesis modules, unfortunately – they would have been godsends, but portable machines that could manipulate spacetime were expensive and _rare_. He'd only ever seen them a few times on gigs.

Less than a minute later, Temple was armed with an Arc Welder (apparently shot electricity, which might prove useful) and Danvers and Henderson with some type of Rivet Guns. He knew nothing about engineering tools, but they were better than nothing. Sam, on the other hand, wielded an SH-B1 Plasma Saw, a mining instrument that must've been lying around somewhere. The metal blade was tipped with artificial diamonds for increased strength, and they twinkled in the dim light. Chopping these things up at close-range suited him better than using a gun.

"Let's move."

Good idea. A deathly hush fell over the company as they pressed on. While they weren't chatty before, some small talk floated around between Danvers and Henderson. He gathered that they were good friends and had been for many years. Now, though, they were as silent as the engine. A knot grew in Curtis' stomach as the realization dawned on him – this was the first time on the Ishimura where he heard _nothing. _There was always a machine or a voice or even his own heartbeat before. It made the voices in his head all the worse.

_Shoot Henderson in the back. He won't even feel it with his spine severed. It's the merciful thing to do, _the Shadow Man said.

Maybe it was right. They were all dead, anyway – perhaps mercy killing was for the best… His grip on the tool tightened, and he subtly raised it as they walked. A single blast would do the trick. Hell, he could unload his entire clip into the column before they turned around! Why should they have to suffer this pain –

He dropped the Line Gun, which resounded with an explosive _thud _that momentarily drove away the awful thoughts. Four faceless heads turned back to him, and he somehow sensed scowls beneath. "Sorry," he muttered before scooping it back up and leaving his companions none the wiser that he was an inch away from murdering them. Again, if anyone else spoke those words, they would have convinced him. Silent tears streamed down his face.

The Shadow Man scowled before slinking back to his mind's far reaches. It'd be back, though; it always came back.

Trembling, they continued noiselessly until they reached an unassuming door – **Fuel Storage**, the holo-sign over it read. Temple turned back before placing a hand on the blue hologram.

Perhaps the chamber's size shouldn't have surprised him. The enormity of the Z-Ball court and Mining Bays took him aback, yet this must have been the largest area of the Ishimura except perhaps Ore Storage.

They stood on a catwalk that flanked the vastness. The same chemical smog that choked the tram tunnels drifted about, obscuring the area's far side and base. Might as well have been a bottomless pit. The only objects that broke the gray and black monotony were massive cylindrical tanks that hung from the ceiling and walls; small lights attached to them were stars in the empty sky.

"Those are the fuel tanks," Henderson whispered to him. His voice fluctuated like he was being electrocuted. To think he came within an inch of ending his life… no, he _wouldn't_ think about it! "We're going to fix the connection." He pointed, and at first Curtis couldn't discern where through the mist. A momentary gap in the clouds, though, let him spot a massive black tube like a giant snake at the room's far end, perhaps a quarter mile away. That must have been the pipe that siphoned liquid hydrogen from the containers to the fusion engines.

All they needed to do was get to it. Simple enough. Curtis estimated it'd take maybe 15 minutes.

His boots clacked softly on metal mesh, and occasionally two of the massive vessels bumped into each other, which evoked a gong, but that was it. Made Curtis wish he'd downloaded some music into his RIG's audio system that he could then blast into his eardrums. His only entertainment was the instruction manual and numbers he scarcely understood. _Maybe when comms come back online, _he thought, realizing the chances of that grew slimmer by the minute. _And that's why I'm with Temple._

The lack of action gave him time to survey the crew from behind. By their postures alone, he knew all were wound tight as watch springs. They gripped their makeshift weapons tight and jerked their heads around at the slightest sound. This was especially true for Henderson – the guy seemed just about ready to explode with how much he twitched.

And then it all went down. As they walked, Henderson put the Rivet Gun to the back of Danvers' head. The same madness that consumed Curtis now devoured him. Before he knew it, he had Henderson by the neck with one arm while he ripped the gun away with the other.

"Maniac! Get off of me!" he screamed while Curtis pinned him down.

"Shut up," Temple whispered, coming to see what the matter was. "Mason, what the Hell are you doing?"

"Sir, he was about to shoot Danvers in the back of the head! Had the Rivet Gun pressed right against it." Henderson's shouts devolved into angered grunts as Curtis struggled to keep him subdued.

"Christ. Henderson, is that – "

Suddenly, the man was free, babbling incoherently. He retracted his helmet, allowing Curtis to see the insanity plastered on his pallid face; he was a rabid dog, eyes red and frothing at the mouth. Speaking of the mouth, he reached up and with a mighty roar began yanking his teeth out. He was too confused and intimidated to react, but that didn't stop Irons, who ran up to Henderson, blood gushing from where his cuspids used to be, and bashed him in the head. The man collapsed, dispatching another series of rattles into the abyss.

The company stood with bated breath. Were they detected?! Even if so, could the Necromorphs reach their position?! The seconds passed, and a sense of relief built within him… only to be quashed by a distant, guttural roar. They weren't alone.

No one spoke. They all took off running down the footway, Sam carrying Henderson draped over his shoulders. Curtis' heart pounded in the dark as paranoia overwhelmed him. Monsters and demons lurked in every shadow, yet they vanished the moment his sight focused on them. It drove him madder than he already was.

_What if Henderson wasn't even doing anything? Maybe I just hallucinated that he was about to shoot Danvers and it was me tackling him that made him snap? Is any of this real? _He didn't even know if this was genuine self-doubt or something more sinister masquerading as such.

Minutes melted away, but they at last reached the far end of the room. Despite the strength augmentation his RIG provided, he wasn't accustomed to wearing it for any significant length of time in areas with gravity. Finally somewhere he felt semi-safe, he retracted his helmet, allowing sweat to pour down his face, and he gulped down as much of the foul air as he could stomach. His muscles burned. _I really hope these fumes aren't toxic!_

A large hexagonal platform was positioned in front of the massive pipe, which disappeared into the fog in both directions. It was as big around as those massive redwood trees that used to grow on the West Coast of the United States Sector. Though long gone, he marveled at cross-sections in the Hubs' history museum. He had no idea the engines needed so much fuel. That was another reason to get to work, which the engineers did, discarding their monster-slaying tools for more practical ones. "Mason, watch him and make sure he doesn't hurt himself more," Temple said, already running diagnostics.

Henderson sputtered as Irons rested him against the guardrail, the front of his RIG drenched with cruor. In fact, with the front of his neck dyed crimson red, he looked more than a little like the first Necromorph he encountered with the missing jaw. He would have applied the contents of that Med Pack he found but worried it might be poisonous if ingested… and he was pretty sure it couldn't regrow teeth. _And he almost killed people_, he thought, cringing at the hypocrisy. Wouldn't have hesitated to use it on himself.

"Din't wan' to do it," he coughed, flecking bloody spittle across metal. The words were barely recognizable coming from a man without teeth. "Jodie tol' me to! Sai' it'd 'ake us whole!"

The entire party's heads swiveled toward the quivering form at the last three words; he wasn't the only one hearing them.

"Your wife isn't here, Henderson," Danvers said, crouching in front of his friend. "She's on Deneba, and if you want to see her again, you better calm down. You sound like a damn rock-worshipper."

"You hea' that, Jodie? 'e wan' me to calm down. They don' unerstan'," he said to the wall before jabbing a finger at Curtis. "Well, excep' thi' one. 'e 'ears, 'e's jus' too scared to do anything!"

_How does he know?! _The other three men glanced his way, though their faces were naturally unreadable.

_Because I told him. _The Shadow Man corporealized, shaping its body from the smoke. Curtis stumbled back, only adding to their suspicions.

"I'm OK." He lied through his teeth as the creature of living darkness stepped forward. Now more than ever it looked like a vulture – this was its world.

_Are you? _It skated across the metal mesh floor like a ghost. Despite appearing to others in the skin of their loved ones, Curtis somehow saw a different side of this Marker-spawn, one he thought was "realer", if that meant anything. _I see your fear. You dread Convergence. What kind of Unitologist are you?_

Curtis couldn't respond, instead merely trembling as the beast put its "hands" on his shoulders, which froze through the climate-controlled RIG. It lacked eyes or a mouth, yet he knew it stared and smiled at him. He closed his eyes, willing the thing to go away. What began as fear became annoyance and resentment. Why should this imaginary monster terrorize him when physical ones prowled the ship?

"I'm stronger than Henderson," he hissed. "I can beat you and your zombie friends."

The invisible smile grew into a foxlike grin. He was about to say something… before a sonic blast tore through the dark.

Sounded just like a foghorn, and the deep piercing echo pressed down from all sides. Didn't bother Curtis, though, largely because of what it did to the Shadow Man. It shrank back, for the first time betraying something approaching fear.

Another blow obliterated it; disparate pieces scattered back into the mist. Before he could question this boon, he was underwater.

Not figuratively, either. He stood on the muddy seafloor. Must have been deep; the only lights were those from his RIG, which didn't penetrate too far. Strange fish, unused to this sensation, flitted back to where they belonged. That left him alone in the knee-deep silt and slime.

Except for one thing.

A towering black obelisk protruded from the ooze, listing slightly to the side like a crumbling building. It extended up into the darkness and was coated in a familiar script that he couldn't discern.

The Black Marker. There was no doubt about it.

He should have been awed both as a Unitologist and a human being, but only the former part weakly responded. It was an illusion. He'd had enough of those to last a lifetime. _This one's obvious… unless I really did get teleported to the bottom of the ocean. _Hell, maybe he did.

He closed his eyes, kept them shut for a moment and then opened them again. Reality returned with all its industrial trappings. Noise, too. The foghorn vanished, supplanted by the roar of the water it beckoned to. Liquid hydrogen flooded down the pipeline, sounding like a raging river.

"Sounds like you got it!" Curtis said to Temple, Danvers and Sam as they packed up their wrenches and hammers.

"Yeah. There was damage on the threading," Temple replied, "Obviously sabotage."

_Sabotage. _His muddled mind wandered back to the two jolly engineers he'd met on the way. _They said Temple might be having trouble. Did they do this? _His gut said yes. But why? _Because they're Unitologists_. God, he hated thinking that every time something bad happened people blamed his religion.

"It's despicable, but whoever did it wasn't very – look out!"

Too late. Henderson was on top of him. He was really fucking tired of getting thrown to the floor as of late, so he naturally struggled with all his might. The man was strong, though, and also uninhibited by sanity. Reminded him of one time he got mugged by junkies on Colony Blue.

Still, he could have held out were it not for the blood, which poured afresh from Henderson's mouth after Curtis socked him in the face. It slickened his hands, which allowed the Line Gun to be wrestled away. Before he knew it, the four of them were being held at gunpoint by a crazy man. That was when Curtis realized his fellow crew members were just as dangerous as the Necromorphs.

"Henderson, if you put that down, we can help you," Sam said as calmly as anyone could have given the situation. "We can take you to the Medical Deck. What do you – "

"Shu' up! You' tryin' to trick me! 'ut I won' be tricked anymore! Jodie says you all hav' to die! That's the onl' way I can see her again!" His rambling inarticulate screams along with the gushing hydrogen could easily be heard across the vast chamber. The monsters were already there. If they didn't leave now, they were all dead. But what could be done? He saw no way out short of divine intervention… and the Marker didn't seem keen on providing that.

Fortunately, the opposite kind of help came.

A shrill screech emanated from the far side, hidden in the mist. Maybe the Necromorphs were confined to other areas of the massive Fuel Storage subdeck. _Well, at least they can't reach us here! _Oh, how wrong he was.

A hideous shape flew through the clouds, drawing everyone's attention. He didn't want to believe, yet there it was, drawing nearer by the moment. But it didn't fly – it _jumped._

Shrieking, the abomination landed at Henderson's feet. This species was the most grotesque yet. The erstwhile person's jaw was detached like a snake's, and the mouth was studded with long, jagged fangs. Its arms bulged obscenely, rippling with power while its spine protruded through translucent flesh. The legs were completely gone, supplanted by a scorpion's tail, complete with a bony blade at the end.

They all screamed with it. Henderson whipped the Line Gun down and pulled the trigger… but nothing happened. _Idiot doesn't know the safety's on! _With what almost sounded like a laugh, the chimera flicked up its tail, impaling him through the neck. He bled before, but now his mouth and neck _gushed_.

The other three men were frozen solid, too terrified to shoot. So was he, though the shooting part didn't apply to him. The monster then casually swung its tail, making Henderson's shuddering, dying form tumble over the guardrail and into the void. The Line Gun slipped from his hands, clattering to the catwalk near the edge.

Then it turned to them, its hissing just audible over the flow of fuel. That's when Temple and Danvers started unloading, scared out of their minds. The thing didn't seem too nimble when not jumping several hundred feet, so it was largely helpless as streams of electricity and rivets hammered down.

He shouted at them to aim for the limbs, but it was simply too loud, and he wasn't about to get in the way. Therefore, he watched as its mutated body was pulverized, eventually failing from sheer trauma instead of dismemberment. About 15 seconds later, the mutated corpse was nothing more than a pile of charred flesh infused with several dozen bolts.

_Leaper, _Curtis thought as its remaining fluids slowly leaked through the metal mesh. He wasn't very creative.

"Holy shit," Danvers said. "It – it impaled him like nothing!" He started to weep, bending over and burying his helmeted face in gloved hands. Sam walked over and placed a comforting arm around his neck. Curtis… well, what could he say when someone's friend died?! Trembling himself, he retrieved the Line Gun, which teetered at the edge of oblivion.

"Danvers, I'm sorry, but we have to go," Temple told his subordinate. "We'll have time to mourn later." It took a little prodding, but they got him moving as Curtis scanned the area for more Necromorphs. Didn't see any, but who knew what they could do! Perhaps there were some that could turn invisible or walk through walls!

They began the somber trek back. It would doubtlessly be more dangerous now that their hunters knew their location and Temple and Danvers were out of ammo. They didn't even waste time with a marching order anymore, instead haphazardly scrambling along. No hallucinations plagued him, at least – seeing the Shadow Man again might be the last straw.

Scratching and hisses crawled out of the darkness ahead when they were about halfway back, shooting them all up to full attention. Curtis' stomach was in his feet. This might be their final stand, and the only defenses they had were a few clips of Line Gun power cells and a Plasma Saw. _At least I helped save the ship. That'll get me some favor with the Marker. _He didn't want to die, but he might as well think about the afterlife if he was going to.

For a moment, he really, really wanted to jump off the catwalk. He might actually survive, and even if he didn't, it would probably be less painful.

_If the Marker's causing all this, then Convergence is fucked. _The Shadow Man's words returned, as did the suspected saboteurs'. This _was _the Universal Awakening, he somehow knew. No use lying to himself. The theology could wait. His mind was consumed by self-preservation anew. _I don't want to become a zombie and kill more people when I die!_

Several figures penetrated the fog perhaps 30 feet away: three Slashers and a Leaper.

Curtis didn't consider himself an intelligent man, yet he fancied he could analyze situations well. He'd learned how to cut rocks like chefs sliced steak during his career as a miner. The same might hold true here. _How would I handle this if they were stone?_

In response, he ejected a couple of power cells from the wide barrel, which magnetically clung to the catwalk halfway between them and the Necromorphs. Sam, who was about to charge forward, realized what this meant and stayed put.

The Slashers roared, sprinting with their blade-arms outstretched.

_Boom! _The makeshift mines detonated as the abominations passed. Chunks of flesh and severed limbs were lofted through the air by the shockwave, which almost knocked him over.

The dust slowly settled, and Curtis strained his ears for any other suspicious sounds, yet there were none. Still, they needed to keep moving… which might be problematic. He didn't consider the effects explosives would have on relatively fragile metal. A gaping hole about ten feet wide split the footway in half. Its edges glowed red and steamed from the scorching plasma residue, making it look as if a meteor tore through.

"Great fucking job!" Danvers spat. "Now we're trapped here!"

Curtis wanted to lash out, but the man was right. He should have recognized the consequences of his actions. "Do any of you know a way around?"

"Not unless you want to go down _there._" He gestured toward the misty pit, which was intermittently brightened by flashes. "With the engines online… I think our best bet is to jump."

_Maybe. _Full-body RIGs made people stronger and faster, but it also dramatically increased their weight, not to mention he was already exhausted. What other choice did they have, though? "It's my fault, so I'll go first." _And there might be things coming up behind us, _he mentally added.

Stepping back, he ran toward the gap, rattling his RIG's metal plating, before leaping across. He wasn't scared. Springing across a bottomless pit was nothing compared with what the last hour put him through. He'd need so much goddamn therapy if he made it out of this alive. _And that's assuming EarthGov doesn't kill us or put us all in prison._

He had mixed feelings on the government. On one hand, it kept most people safe and well-fed. On the other… well, despite what the news said about the Mars Independence Riots, he was there. He _saw _who sparked the violence, and it sure as Hell wasn't the protestors. Who knew how far they'd go to quash information about alien zombies?

"The floor's steady," he said, readying himself to help whoever crossed next.

Sam followed. As his heavyset frame fell, so did Curtis stomach. Irons grabbed the simmering, jagged edge, which must have punctured his glove if the agonized grunt was any indication. "Hold on!" He scrambled forward to help his friend clamber up. His mitts were charred black and dripped blood, but all his fingers seemed intact.

Curtis pulled the spare Med Kit from a pocket and dripped some Somatic Gel onto the tough synthetic fabric. "Urgh… thank you."

Temple followed. All was good. Finally, Danvers, who warily scanned the hole. "Come on, Danvers. I know you're scared, but this is the only way," Temple said.

"Henderson's dead, man! Maybe I should just stay here!"

"His family _needs_ you! How can you help them if you die?!" Curtis really thought he'd say something like 'I gave you an order', but he was fortunately not a complete dick. Still, hesitated until a one-armed, headless Leaper appeared, having survived the mines.

Gurgling, it crawled over the guardrail right behind Danvers. That provided more than enough motivation to make him nearly fly over, bawling… but not before it slashed his leg! Danvers bled on the catwalk in front of them, and the Leaper wasn't far behind, easily clearing the gap despite its dismemberment.

Curtis whipped the Line Gun up, but the beam was too wide! Hitting the monster meant slicing up the man, too! Danvers screamed; he would have been dead already if the Necromorph still possessed its head. It gurgled again, blindly flinging its tail just over his skull.

Irons deftly stepped forward and put a boot on its stinger before shoving the diamond-coated tungsten blade into its back. The creature paused a moment in what seemed to be confusion, trying to figure out what was stuck in its spine. Then he activated the tool.

A sheen of plasma coated the diamond edge, which blinded him a moment. Gore spurted across the platform as the glowing shank rotated at 17,000 RPM. The animate corpse thrashed around, which only mangled it more. Curtis perversely giggled as the Leaper tore itself apart on the blade. Destroying these abominations brought him momentary joy.

Sam eventually extracted the tool, leaving Danvers drenched in blood and guts. What remained of the creature twitched a few moments before going limp. Wordlessly, the former helped the latter to stand as Curtis and Temple watched. "Shall we continue?"

"I – I don't know if I can walk," Danvers said, his leg oozing blood. "But you have a Med Pack, right, Curtis?"

They all turned to him, which put him in a bit of a pickle. Yeah, he had enough to fix the man's wound. But should he? This guy had been rude to him the entire journey – perhaps he deserved to limp on back, not to mention Somatic Gel was worth far more than gold in this situation. It'd already become scarce, considering he found only a single small container on the deck so far. He needed to consider his own wellbeing…

"Give it to him," Temple commanded, to which he sheepishly acquiesced. He wasn't about to disobey one of the ship's most important officers. Danvers popped the cylinder into a slot on his chest, the contents of which his RIG distributed accordingly.

"Uh, thanks," he said, stumbling forward.

"Yeah."

They pressed on while Curtis seethed. _I saved their asses. None of them even thanked me. _It barely occurred to him that everyone contributed at least a little. _Should have been mine to keep. _Alternating flashes of red and black crossed his vision. Felt like he was being fought over, which made him madder.

_KILL SOMEONE! _the Shadow Man screamed. _CONVERGENCE IS –_

" – coming," he finished. "But I won't be part of it."

"Did you say something?" asked Danvers, who'd taken up the lead.

"No, I didn't," he lied. Everyone knew he lied. Everyone knew everyone else heard voices and observed apparitions, yet no one wanted to acknowledge them. Perhaps that was for the best. They all had enough to deal with individually, and he couldn't shoulder any more burdens.

Evil sounds emanated from above, below and across, but he didn't see any Necromorphs in the hundred or so feet before the exit. _We're going to survive. Yay. _Hard to feel excited with all the hardship ahead of them. What did it matter that they fixed a critical problem? Their chances of survival were still basically nil.

Danvers laughed and took off toward the door the moment it came into view. _Smug bastard, _Curtis thought. _Got over his friend real fast. _Fifty feet forward, the man put a hand on the door's blue hologram.

It opened; there was a person on the other side! He silently sighed. Finding anyone else in this nightmare was a godsend, regardless of how –

The figure grabbed Danvers, who began screaming and desperately trying to escape their clutches. "Help! G-get it off!"

_Fuck! _Curtis rushed forward, and his stomach dropped as the last of the mist cleared. It was yet another species of Necromorph. This one's frame was particularly human, but without obstruction it was just as hideous as the rest.

Its face had partially _melted_; eyes and nose were replaced with rotting apertures, and its toothless mouth burbled a disgusting yellow fluid. The torso was split open. What looked to be lungs consumed all other organs, and they leaked the same liquid. The hands twisted into a nightmare of tentacles and claws, but the legs unsettled him the most. The right one somehow shifted over to the left hip while a substitute of muscle, intestines and nerves grew in the former's place.

Everyone screamed, Danvers most of all. What could he do, though? It still grappled the man, who tried to squirm away from the creature as it gurgled at him. That's when he noticed that the fluid began to eat away at his RIG, corroding before his eyes. He'd never seen anything like it.

"B-burning! Shoot it, I don't care if you hit me!" Fine. Cringing, Curtis brought the weapon up, turned the safety off, and fired. So what if the man annoyed him?! He didn't want anyone to die! The plasma blast nailed them both in the right shoulder. It breached Danvers' RIG, but the armor fortunately bore the brunt. The Necromorph wasn't so lucky. Its arm detached and a stream of acid shot from the stump, oxidizing the floor. With only half its strength, Danvers managed to wrench himself away.

And then he slipped in the blood/acid concoction. If only he knew the grav-boot trick… He had a clear shot now, and he felt a smile form as he pulled the trigger.

Nothing.

_I forgot to reload! _Smugness turned to panic, and he fumbled around for extra power cells. Irons, man of action that he was, charged forward with the Plasma Saw, but it was too late. The thing stepped forward as Danvers desperately tried to scoot away. Its lungs contracted, expelling the acerbic payload from its mouth.

Curtis and Temple rushed forward as Sam cleaved the Necromorph's other arm off, then its legs. Without any bile left, there wasn't too much it could do. But it did its job.

_Puker._

That's what it did. This wasn't the time for silly nicknames, but thinking of one was all he could do to even slightly dampen the horror before him.

Danvers was dying. His health readout flashed red as he lay motionless. His RIG dissolved completely in places, like – _I can see his leg bones. _Indeed, his lower body was all but gone; only the skeleton remained. It almost made him laugh. This was the kind of shit he'd see in a bad horror movie. _Rancid Moon _had about a dozen scenes with similar gore.

But that was all CGI and prosthetics and holograms. This, somehow, was real.

On his knees, he ripped Danvers' helmet to get him some air. He only meant to retract it a little, but the addled metal crumbled in his hands. He wasn't surprised by what awaited beneath, but it still broke his heart and turned his stomach.

It looked as if Danvers had been set on fire. Most of the skin on his face was gone, revealing red muscle, and his eyes had been eaten away. Pained wheezes were the only indication he barely clung to life.

If only they still had some Somatic Gel. It wouldn't have possibly saved him, but it would at least have eased the immense pain in his final moments. Temple must have realized the same, for his grip on the Arc Welder tightened; looked like he wanted to snap it in half.

Danvers groaned, looking at the other three with eyeless sockets. "Tell Jodie… I'm sorry I couldn't save her husband."

The last crimson light of his health monitor faded, and a flatline emanated from his corpse.

The following minutes were a blur. He remembered Temple taking the Plasma Saw from Irons and quartering the body so it couldn't be resurrected. They argued. He sat, surrendering to the visions that begged to be let in. He was underwater, staring at the Black Marker. He was grateful. He was back in the real world, being dragged through the door back the way they came.

Vision drifting back into focus for a moment, he spotted a trail of corrosion leading from the dismembered abomination to a nearby air duct, the cover to which was violently wrenched off. He knew that such mean something, yet he couldn't comprehend what in his sorry state.

Temple told him to take up the front and keep an eye out for monsters. Almost robotically, he marched on like the tin soldier he'd resigned himself to be.

…

_Nicole, you have to make us whole, _Isaac said. She wanted to very much, though she still had no idea what that meant. Probably something about killing herself and others, yet she loved him too much to stop listening. Plenty of work remained, but she needed a coffee break or she might actually pass out while performing surgery. Her staff didn't look much better.

She, at least, remained sane, so she couldn't talk to her boyfriend. Not in public, anyway.

She felt the edges of her mouth upturn ever so slightly as approached her office, opened the door and entered, only to fall immediately after.

Mercer sat in her chair, furiously typing at her computer, though she didn't know _what, _as he'd tilted the monitor so it couldn't be seen from the doorway. At the moment, though, that was the least of her concerns. "Mercer! What the fuck are you doing?!"

His eyes shot up to meet hers. The bastard didn't look so smug anymore. No, the fear that she'd report him was writ on his face… which she'd do, of course. "Dr. Brennan! I was just – "

As she stormed over, he dropped any pretext of apology and scrambled to hide whatever he'd just done. Reminded her of a teenage boy trying to hide porn from his mother. She caught a glimpse before the console wiped: something having to do with ship systems.

The little weasel used her administrative clearance to access the Ishimura's mainframe! She seized him by the collar, and color drained from his face despite being much larger. Not only was this against CEC policy and _illegal_, it was also a slap in the face!

"_This _is how you treat your boss?! Breaking into her office and altering medical records?!" What else would he be doing? Her assumption was he'd screwed up, quack that he was, killed someone and now tried to cover it up.

A ghost of a smile played across his face. "'Altering medical records'. Yes, Dr. Brennan, that's exactly what I did. Guilty as charged." What a psychopath.

"Once Mathius hears about this, you'll be in the brig for the rest of the mission, and then in prison the rest of your life!" She reached for the holo-projector on her chest to contact the Captain, but Mercer grabbed her hands before she could, his confidence having returned.

Words didn't form in her consciousness. All she knew in that moment was primal terror. Funny how emotions could turn on a dime. "Come now, Nicole. There's no reason to be hasty. How about we spend some time together first. After all, there's no one else around."

No. She needed to find some way out or –

Mercer was gone. In his place stood Isaac; his loving eyes met hers. _There's no reason to be afraid, _he said, laying her down on the floor. _I've got you._

"You're not real," she whispered, knowing that but yearning for this hallucination to supplant actuality. "I don't know what you are, but you're _fake_."

_You don't really think that, do you? _Yes… no… maybe? What was real anymore? Why not surrender to Isaac? He'd never hurt her. _I love you, Nicole. When you return to Earth, let's get married like you always wanted._

"Oh, Isaac." The cold metal floor became a soft bed, and her boyfriend began to caress her face with one hand and pull down her pants with the other. Her subconscious screamed. "I'm sorry."

Her hand flew into a pocket and emerged with a scalpel. She slashed Isaac across the face, making him yowl with pain, before plunging the blade into his shoulder and kicking him in the groin. He looked at her with terror and disappointment, which made her cringe, and then melted away.

Mercer screamed bloody murder and yanked the blade out of him, by which point Nicole was already up and sprinting back to the ER. She didn't want to call Mathius – the Ishimura was fucked, and the only person who could protect her was herself.

"Heretic bitch! I'll kill you!" Mercer shouted as she ran.

**2 Hours Post-Outbreak**

Curtis was still in a funk by the time they reached the Control Room. There weren't any Necromorphs on the way, allowing him to stew in his own wretched emotions. More than fear or despair, he felt _blue. _Things he should have done raced through his mind. He didn't save half of the team. He knew he _could_, yet that's not how things happened. They died. Maybe it wasn't completely his fault, but…

"All right, I'm ready to head to the Bridge and see about fixing the comms. Just got off a RIG-Link with Captain Mathius, and he says the, uh, Necrophages or whatever you call them haven't reached there yet." Right, that's what this all was about. He'd forgotten in the fog of battle that he had a purpose besides wandering around a zombie-filled spaceship.

_He doesn't even care that his subordinates are dead, _Curtis thought, trying and failing to be angry. Didn't seem like it, anyway. He couldn't feel anything but the whispering screams in his mind and hot flashes of black and red and red and black.

Sam noticed his anguish and placed a hand on his shoulder. Didn't do any good. Though he wanted to bat the paw away like a perturbed cat, he didn't have the energy. Who was he to turn away comfort from somebody who only wanted to help?

"Are you coming or not?" Temple asked, nearly out the door.

He pondered it a moment, yet he already knew what his answer was. Despite how bad he felt, he wasn't ready to throw his life away. Not yet. He had a purpose, petty as it was: get Temple to the Bridge. After that… well, he supposed he'd focus on survival. "Yeah, I'm coming," he muttered.

Irons flashed a small smile before unsheathing his helmet. Curtis did the same, glad to be in his own sanitized little world. The metal and electronics put a layer between himself and others. Completely worth it even though his bones now ached with every step he took in it. He picked up his Line Gun, and they departed.

Things were very different now. Perhaps half an hour passed since he'd last travelled these halls. The exposed circuitry and piping had ruptured in places – whether from angry Necromorphs or sabotage or system failure, he knew not.

Occasional panicked footsteps or deranged screams had been supplanted with merely the rumbling engines, making a knot grow in his stomach. The most disturbing change, however, was the appearance of a strange, fleshy substance on swathes of the floor, ceiling and walls. _Not fleshy – it is flesh. _He recalled the material from the colony feed Captain Mathius showed him, but he hadn't considered it since then. _It's made of dead people, too. _They stopped at the first patch of it on the floor; no way around it. All three men looked at each other for a moment, all hiding behind their masks.

"I'll go first," Temple said, which took Curtis off-guard. He thought for sure that stepping in the suspicious muck would be left to him.

"No," he said, surprising even himself. "People need you. Me? I'm just muscle."

Temple reluctantly nodded, and Curtis gingerly put one foot in the ooze.

His stomach turned when he realized the stuff was still animate. It wrapped around his boot like a giant slime mold, trying to assimilate him into its mass. What a horror show. The undead tissue was strong stuff, but he slowly marched through it to the other side and let out a silent prayer of thanks when nothing popped out of it to kill him. He motioned for the other two to follow, and they were soon across.

"It's still hard for me to believe this isn't a nightmare," Sam whispered as they headed toward the tram. Fortunately, they knew their ways around the deck, actually working there.

"I know." Beyond the few words they exchanged, silence reigned. He glanced at some of the doors he'd earlier passed. Whispers and shouts came from them before, but now, nothing. And many of the air ducts had their covers ripped out. _The vents._

Now he understood. The Puker crawling through ventilation ducts wasn't a fluke; it explained how the Necromorphs navigated the Ishimura so quickly. They could bypass hallways, checkpoints, entire decks, even! It also meant that barricading oneself inside a room in hopes of safety was a death sentence.

Rounding a corner, he was greeted by an unsurprising yet horrible sight. The suspected saboteurs he'd met earlier slumped dead against the wall, yet more victims of the undead horde. _No, wait… _As they approached, he realized they looked fine aside from being deceased. They still had all their limbs and the organs looked to be firmly instead them. Their throats were slit – they did this themselves.

"I know them," Irons hollowly remarked as they passed the corpses. "Saw them several times. They seemed, well… I shouldn't judge fellow believers."

Beyond that, they didn't run into too much trouble. They arrived at the tram station soon enough. Dead: no monsters or refugees… though at least the grinding noise of the engine had returned, rumbling far beneath their feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …
> 
> Hello, everyone. It's been a little longer than usual, but I'm glad you're all back! I don't have much to do over Thanksgiving or Winter Break, so I should increase my output speed then. This was kind of an inconsequential chapter, but things really will pick up next time.
> 
> I want to point out that there are several aspects of the Dead Space franchise I'm taking some liberties with. First, there are a few gameplay elements that I'm going to ignore. Chief among those are Stores (in my canon, there are regular vending machines, but I think the idea of a vending machine you can buy guns out of is rather silly) and Save Stations. I'm also attempting more of a "survival" tone – in the games, there's money and ammo around every corner, but I want to make Curtis really work to maintain even a small pool of resources.
> 
> As you may have noticed from the Puker being in this chapter, I'm incorporating Necromorphs that weren't in DS 1 (like that Stalker!), as a lot of them are really cool. I'm not including the Pack, as there's no reason for children to be on the ship (though you could say the same about babies), but all the other species are fair game.
> 
> Finally, the Ishimura itself. It's stated a few times that it's a little more than a mile long and has a crew of about 1000 people. I've doubled both of those – my Ishimura is three-ish miles long with a complement of around 2000. Those numbers more readily justify the number of environments and also the sheer number of Necromorphs encountered throughout the game. Most of you likely don't care about this stuff, but I wanted to point it out for the huge lore sticklers (like myself).
> 
> I'd like to thank PUZZLEMASTER1998, DERPYSAUCE, CRIMSON AN'XILEEL, ANCIENTOFDAYZ and TYRANICALREPTILE for reviewing the previous chapter. Hope you all enjoy!


	7. Coming Together

**2 Hours, 15 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Curtis sat in the gondola with his helmet off, dazed by recent events. He'd found Temple, helped save the ship… and two people died. He tried to convince himself that the trade-off was worthwhile, but these attempts were nothing but lies. Dozens of actions he could have taken to save them played in his mind.

_I can't even tell myself the truth. Pathetic. _His self-loathing grew with each failure – if he survived (unlikely), it would take a lot of soul-searching and therapy to ever forgive himself. The supervisor was right; he couldn't save them all, and that fact made him want to die. He trembled in his seat.

"Now arriving at the Crew Deck," the Ishimura's AI chirped. Difficult to believe he once had the luxury of being angered by the machine.

"Well, this is my stop," Sam said, rising from the seat beside him. The words nearly gave Curtis a heart attack.

"What are you doing?!" he asked as he sprang up and grappled him by the shoulders. It'd barely slow the man down, but Curtis _needed _some semblance of control!

"Getting off to help people." Sam effortlessly shook him away and continued for the threshold. That hardly stopped Curtis, who grabbed him by the wrist. The man's muscles tenses, and he half expected a slap in the face. "There are survivors fighting for their lives; most of them are likely here. I want to aid them." Whether by intention or Curtis' own bruised ego, the words sounded like they were directed at a child.

"You can't leave!" Anger rose in his stomach, supplanting the melancholy he felt moments before. Perhaps he deserved to be treated like a kid. Sam's reasoning was sound and even admirable! Good Unitologists – good _adults _– revered self-sacrifice, and there he was, a 31-year-old man demanding his "friend" leave people to die. "Aren't you going to fix the RelayNet?!"

"We already talked about that," Temple interjected, not sounding completely happy with it, either. "It's specialized, yes, but not a very intensive job. I can do it myself."

He stared at his best friend, trying to find any sign of hesitation, but none presented itself. How sad to even think of Irons as his "best friend" – he'd only met the guy a week ago and knew nothing of his personal life! Absolutely pathetic, and he slumped over as he realized there wasn't a damn thing he could do. This was a man set on fulfilling his goal of helping as many people as possible.

Then Curtis burst into tears.

It surprised him most of all. Though he'd cried a couple of times in the past hours, this was the first time in as long as he could remember that he had a complete meltdown. Too depressed to even register shame, he leaned into Sam's gut and _wept. _And it felt good. For once, he had far bigger things to worry about than looking weak… even though he certainly was.

"I'll come back," Irons replied with as much conviction as he could muster. Looking up, he saw the man through bleary eyes. Curtis didn't believe him. "And if I don't…" Without hesitation, he pulled his Marker necklace off, having to maneuver it through his long, braided ponytail. "Take this."

Curtis stared blankly at the small stone for a moment, trying to figure out how to feel. On one hand, he knew this amulet possessed great sentimental value to his friend. On the other, his faith waned by the minute. How could he wear the symbol of a religion whose veracity and morality he now doubted?

When he glanced back up, Irons already stood on the bloody platform, waving goodbye. Curtis could have followed… but he didn't. Instead, he stood motionless as the train departed and sat back down, tears still streaming down his face. Torn, he tucked the talisman into his pocket.

The only noises were those of grinding gears and scraping metal for a few moments. The trolley never used to sound like that. It probably just needed maintenance, but he couldn't help imagining a massive Necromorph clinging to the hull, readying itself to burst through the wall and rip him to – _You need to calm down, _he told himself, sitting on one of the cleaner, not-so-gory seats.

He couldn't succumb to fear and paranoia with the finish line in view. All he needed to do was get Temple to Mathius. That'd take five minutes, maybe an hour to repair the RelayNet and ten more _at most _for evac to arrive. He'd be out of there in half a day. After that, he'd go back to his apartment in the Hubs and take a really long shower.

"You know, I'm impressed," Temple remarked. Curtis scanned the man's words for the mockery such behavior would usually inspire but came away empty-handed. Genuineness was rare and appreciated in the artificial world they inhabited.

"About what?"

Before replying, he retracted his helmet to provide a more personal connection. This was the first time Curtis got a good look at his face, which wasn't what he expected. The man was young, probably around 25, and very, very tired. _Well, Mathius implied he's some kind of engineering prodigy._

"You came to fix the engines completely of your own free will. None of us would have survived without your help. I know how much it hurts that we lost people…" His hands tightened around the Arc Welder, and his face darkened. Curtis realized he might have judged the man too harshly; he was a leader who didn't have the luxury of grieving as soon as tragedy befell him. "But you did well. I would have let Irons leave without a second thought. Caring isn't weakness. In fact, that's something I need to remember. I'm… looking for someone."

"Girlfriend?" He remembered Kyne talking about his ex-wife being aboard. How brutal that must have been, not knowing if your loved ones were alive or dead? Far worse than just friends. _At least that's something I'll never have to handle._

"Yeah. Her name's Elizabeth. Works in Hydroponics. After all this is over, I'm going to find her." He sniffled, and Curtis felt a surge of empathy in his chest. "Look, I'm not a Unitologist, and I'm not sure if you are either, but could you pray for me? For her?"

"I'd be honored," he replied. The fact that the man asked him to do such a thing was unbelievable in a way he couldn't describe. It dented his self-loathing, which he decided to push aside for a few minutes. That's what he did for the next few minutes. The tram scuttled along a little longer before slowly grinding to a stop.

"Now arriving at the Bridge." The two looked at each other with new understanding before rising and stepping onto scuffed steel.

A knot grew in Curtis' stomach as they set out toward the Main Atrium. The smiling visages of captains past didn't allay his apprehension, which increased as he realized there were no guards. _They're on a break, _he told himself, actually believing that to be the most reasonable explanation; no signs of struggle, such as blood stains or claw marks were present.

He strained his ears as he neared their destination, hoping for some evidence of life, which there was – a fight! Not involving Necromorphs, thank Altman; this sounded more like a barroom brawl, with shouts and gasps and the wet slap of a fist meeting a jaw. Curtis and Temple looked at each other before booking it the rest of the way.

Curtis nearly collapsed as he felt another muscle painfully pop. Spending so much time in the RIG wrecked his body; neither were meant to be used this way. His sprained, tearing ligaments reminded him of the newly formed Necromorph he saw, its bones split and forced into something utterly inhuman. How could some Unitologists see these monsters as _anything _holy when the human body was so important to them?!

The fact that he shared the same flesh as these abominations made him want to vomit until he recalled Danvers being dissolved by acidic bile. Therefore, he kept it down until they reached the door to the Main Atrium, which Temple opened with his executive clearance.

"He's speaking heresy!" Mathius screamed with a finger jabbed at Dr. Kyne, who slowly backed away. Curtis dimly recalled that the doctor wanted to convince the Captain to abandon the Marker. Didn't seem to go so well. A cavalcade of officers stood in a ring around the raised platform the drama unfolded upon, two of whom rushed up to restrain the insane commander. "He's a spy planted on my ship to destroy any hope we have of transcending _death!_"

Mathius lunged at the terrified Kyne, only for the officers – Chic and another man he recognized but didn't know the name of – to yank him back in the nick of time.

The scene absolutely thrilled Curtis, who had reached the crowd's edge. Part of him recognized the immortality of wanting to see Mathius, practically rabid, beat down another person or vice versa, but most of him didn't care, and that was the case for everyone. This bizarre fight provided a welcome distraction from the horrors unfolding all around them, and the red sunlight streaming through the massive windows created something haunting.

The unknown officer whispered something to Mathius, who responded with an enraged look before socking him in the face, eliciting a gasp from all in attendance, before slithering out of Chic's grasp.

"Should we do something?" Temple whispered to him over the crowd.

"I don't know," he muttered back. Neither Mathius nor Kyne had weapons on them from what he could see, so what was the worst they could do to each other? Besides, he _was _in charge.

"I gave you an order, Mr. White!" the Captain bellowed. "Arrest Kyne for mutiny!"

"Nobody cares that you're a Uni, Cap," Chic shot back, "we just want to get out of this alive! We're in a quarantined system, for God's sake!"

Quarantined? What was that supposed to – oh. _Oh no. _"Quarantined systems" were stars that EarthGov effectively declared off-limits. This was usually for "hazardous cosmic phenomena", though it was pretty damn convenient that these places were usually backwater hovels away from major colonies, perfect for secret work. It also meant that civilian help was unlikely – no other ships around, and the government might blow the Ishimura up to keep this pathogen from spreading instead of saving them. Also explained why recruiting for this mission was so secretive.

It also begged an extremely important question: did EarthGov know about the Necromorphs? That'd be a good reason to seal a solar system. Then again, they only appeared years after the colony had been set up, so it might have been something completely different. Didn't stop him from imagining that equally horrific threats lurked in the galaxy's dark places, just barely contained under lock and key.

The Captain's rage abated for a moment, and he looked around, scanning the crowd. Its collective bloodlust seemed to have tempered upon this revelation. People were afraid again. Mathius realized his failure in that moment of sanity; shame was writ on his face. Therefore, he did the most professional thing he could have done.

He gave himself up.

Pivoting his head towards the floor, the Captain stuck his hands out. The collective gasp couldn't have been too loud, yet it was still momentous. Curtis wasn't sure what to think. This didn't seem so important anymore. White and Chic rushed toward him anyway, slamming him into a guardrail and handcuffing him before he changed his mind. Curtis looked away. Seeing an old man get beaten up wasn't as pleasant as the opposite. Then Kyne stepped forward.

"By Maritime Law Article 54-69, I hereby declare Captain Benjamin Mathius unfit for duty."

The doctor said he'd be forced to invoke that obscure bylaw should the need arise. Well, it finally had. Mathius glowered at the floor for a moment. Curtis thought he'd remain silent until he growled something just loud and coherent enough to make out. "Kyne, you traitor, you're one of us. You were sent here by the Church specifically to retrieve the Marker, just like me."

His stomach dropped. Temple's eyes went wide. Obviously, the Church of Unitology knew about the Marker, but the notion that they had such great power in the CEC astonished him. It was the largest mining corporation in history and the fifth largest company _ever_; how much stock did the Church own? No wonder EarthGov was so hard on the religion – both competed for the largest slice of capital.

Kyne put a hand under his lab coat, feeling around for something. When it came out, it held a glass syringe filled with clear fluid. "This is a sedative. It will make you feel better."

"Traitor," Mathius mumbled as Kyne carefully strode closer, as if handling a snake. "Heretic," he said louder. "Murderer!" he screamed when the doctor was about to inject him.

The crowd jostled for a better view of the action. "Maybe we should stop this," he suggested to Temple. The other man nodded, and they began to push through the masses. He heard scuffling, though he only caught glimpses through the sea of heads. There were grunts followed by a wet _pop. _That's when the screaming started.

Everyone surged forward, bringing Curtis and Temple along. _What's going on? Did something happen to –_

He finally broke through the crowd, which now roared with confusion and anguish. So did he, at least until the noise was drowned out by an all-too-familiar flatlining.

Mathius lay at Kyne's feet with a black health readout on his spine. The cause of death: a needle jammed into his left eye, no doubt injecting his brain with a lethal dose of tranquilizer.

Curtis didn't feel much. It wasn't like he wanted the Captain to die, but that hardly surprised him anymore. Anyone could die, especially somebody so obviously ill. Most people, however, broke. They shuddered and wept, two actions he was no stranger to, and not because they respected or loved the man so much. This was a rude awakening – what chance did any of them have if the _Captain _was gone?

"He's… dead," White exclaimed, staring bug-eyed at Kyne, who trembled in his boots.

"N-no, please! It was an accident! I had to stop him! Amelia said he was dangerous!"

_Oh no. _Amelia… Kyne's wife. Now Curtis realized what "she" was.

"You all saw it," he said, rallying the crowd. "Arrest the doctor!" Curtis wanted to step in. Though he didn't see the whole thing, he doubted anyone else got a complete view, either, but he knew Kyne. He wouldn't kill a man in cold blood, at least not without visions of his absent wife telling him to.

Before he could react, though, an alarm tripped, and red emergency lights kicked on. With the crimson suns outside, it looked like something out of a comic book – everyone was drenched in blood. Had life support failed? Was a giant asteroid about to impact the Ishimura? Curtis steeled himself for any possibility. However, he never could have prepared for the words that followed.

"Ladies and gentlemen: the escape shuttles are away. Total life signs aboard: zero."

He dreamed. It must have been a vision or an illusion! Something to drive him mad! Well, he wouldn't give in! He wouldn't – _You know this is reality, _the Shadow Man said, manifesting in his brain again. _You've lost. The sooner you accept that, the better for both of us. _By the time he came to his senses, Kyne was long gone.

And now… catatonia. Some people reacted more _viscerally _to this announcement, but most, himself included, were numb. Did he really expect to get out alive? He turned to Temple, who wore the same blank, thousand-yard stare. "Fuck this," he whispered, and the rest of his hope evaporated.

If he didn't fix the comms… that was it. They'd all die cold and alone in the depths of space. He wanted to beg or threaten him to repair the thing, but he didn't have the strength. Even with the RIG, a punch from his trembling arm would feel like a pillow. Moreover, he actually understood. Depriving others of the chance to live may have been selfish, but he wouldn't have wanted to spend his final hours slaving away at a fool's errand, especially since he had someone so important to him aboard.

"I have to find Elizabeth."

"Good luck," Curtis replied, his voice cracking.

With that, they silently decided to go their separate ways as the Bridge trembled.

…

Nicole knew what – _who _– launched the escape shuttles. People cried as she pushed down the hallway, and not just because of the awful news. It wasn't because of the large volume of injured, either. Rather, it was their _lack. _The number of refugees petered out; none arrived anymore. The pain of not knowing whether her friends were alive or dead affected her, as well, but she had business to attend to.

Whether the "monsters" aboard were real or imaginary, a far bigger monster awaited down that very hallway. And when she met him…

_You shouldn't kill Mercer, _Isaac goaded as she stormed down the corridor. How uncharacteristic. This phantasm normally _loved _death; killing in dreams, encouraging her to abandon her patients. No more! She'd entertained the apparition long enough.

"I'm going to murder the bastard, and you can't stop me. The real Isaac would understand," she growled, trying to shove the voice out of her mind.

To her shock, the voice pushed back. It was a difficult feeling to describe – the closest she could come was to say something squeezed her brain, trying to preserve its own existence.

Faltering, she fell against the wall, suddenly much more concerned about her internal world than the external one. _You can't get rid of me, Nicole, _Isaac hissed. _You said we'd be together forever._

"You! Are not! Isaac!" she yelled, gritting her teeth and imagining herself beating this formless facsimile into bloody pulp.

Then it was gone, simply vanished back into the back of her brain. She knew it'd be back, though. It _always _came back.

Sweating through her lab coat, she stumbled to her feet and continued towards Mercer's office. Her clammy right hand played with the scalpel in her pocket while the left flexed open and closed. _I'm really going to kill a man, _she thought as she slowly padded towards the door. Fortunately, it was an old-school number on actual hinges instead of one that retracted into the wall or ceiling, so sneaking up on him would be easier.

Mercer's office moldered in a far-flung corner of the deck primarily reserved for storage; she'd never visited before and didn't particularly want to. With the influx of patients siphoning off the remaining staff, she was the only person around. That made it easier to hear Mercer's humming over the rattling ventilation and flickering lights.

There was something else, though: snarling. She had no idea what it could be; sounded like an animal being tortured, but there weren't any of those aboard. More likely he had footage of animal abuse that he got off to. Yeah, he needed to die. Nobody would even realize he went missing in the chaos. She crouched outside the threshold a moment later, unsheathing the blade and steeling herself for murder.

He killed all of them… and _she _was complicit. When she caught him using her clearance to poke around the Ishimura's tightest systems, she simply thought he altered medical records. That would have been far too mundane, though. Instead, he launched the escape vehicles and left them stranded in the void. _I should've been more careful. _She gripped the knife tighter, overwhelmed with guilt. There was _another _person who deserved to die afterwards… but that would be selfish. She'd spend her final days or hours helping the victims of her failure. _I'm sorry I won't come back, Isaac…_

With that, she stood up and cracked the door open. The sight and smell nearly made her vomit. So much was so _wrong _with the chamber that each sensation was a new smack in the face.

Most mundanely, the graffiti. She'd seen several instances of it in the past hours – mostly that Marker scrawl the Unitologists were so fond of, but also English mantras like **"THEY ARE WATCHING" **and **"IT'S TIME"**. Almost made sense with no radio or other forms of contact they previously took for granted. Here, though, illegible markings covered the ceiling and walls, all circling a chalk rendition of the Marker that coated the entire floor. Looked like an occult ritual. That observation was strengthened by the severed heads.

Dozens decomposed in glass jars. Exposed muscle and tendon highlighted rotting teeth. They'd been dead at least a week to have been so decayed; he must have gotten them from the morgue. Her disgust dropped a hair when she realized he hadn't physically murdered patients.

But then she saw the monsters. She didn't know how they evaded detection, being there in the middle of the room. Perhaps that particular sight was so horrific that her brain needed multiple seconds to process it. Mercer, wearing a bloodied smock, stood over a nightmare bound to a table.

It was humanoid in shape and mottled brown like a corpse. Its thick arms ended in massive blades; though dull, the strength they possessed could rend nearly anything. The torso was twisted and sunken in, and a mess of gangrenous tentacles superseded the mouth. Its eyes disturbed her most of all. They were two shriveled dots that burned yellow in the tungsten light. And they looked right at her. The rumors were true; creatures from her darkest dreams somehow tore their way into reality.

Her trembling hand dropped the scalpel, which clattered to the floor and alerted Mercer, who flashed her a wolfish yet genuine grin. Quite an about-face for the man who called her a "heretic bitch". "Ah, Nicole! How unexpected! It's nice to have a visitor during these final days."

"W-what are you doing?" she whispered, throat shriveling. Her legs wouldn't work at all. When feeling returned, she still wasn't sure whether she'd kill him or sprint away screaming.

"Hmm? Oh, _this_." He gestured at the creature like a work of art. "My greatest creation, a gift that will aid in the spread of Convergence throughout the Ishimura! It's remarkable."

The thing growled at her, but its shackles were tight and plentiful. Curiosity overcame the horror, luring her closer. "T-that's one word f-for it," she croaked, almost believing this to be a hallucination, but she knew better. Even her muddled subconscious wasn't fucked enough to conjure something like this. "Is it an alien?" Part of her yelled that now wasn't the time for such questions, yet the scientist begged to differ.

The inquiry actually offended him. Even the creature snarled; did it understand her?! "Hardly. This is a pure expression of humanity – the 'infected' DNA and genetics are nearly unchanged despite the radical shift in appearance, I assure you. It is the idealized version of ourselves." She almost didn't believe him. The beast before her seemed no more human than a dog… until she spotted the ankle tag, an ID they put on all their patients.

"**B. HARRIS,"** it read.

"H-Harris?" she gasped, stumbling back. She completely forgot about him over the past few days! If only she knew what a madman Mercer was before letting him watch another person! Somehow, she knew it was genuine. He'd turned Harris into a monster, much like the ones that even now roamed the ship. Upon hearing his former name, the thing cringed and even whimpered.

"I'm glad you recognize Harris. Thank you for providing him. His new form is coming along quite well. In fact, I believe it's about ready."

"What are you talking about, you freak?" she spat, having finally gained some semblance of reason back. "Why did you do this to him? Why did you launch the shuttles?!"

"Because these are the end times, Nicole, and we are all very corrupt people." He projected a hologram of Aegis VII from his RIG. "For our species to survive, we consume planet after planet. We have devoured entire solar systems in our endless hunger. That is the path EarthGov has put us on, and I am complicit. Do you know what it reminds me of?" She shook her head, ready to run.

"A plague of locusts. That is the true infection. In its mercy, however, the Marker has given us another way. We would be fools not to take it." His smile grew, which made her burn. He'd doomed thousands of people for some bullshit "salvation"?!

"Go to Hell," she shot back, burning inside.

"Interesting choice of words from an atheist." She opened her mouth to retort, yet nothing came to mind. Perhaps she possessed a more spiritual side than she'd care to admit. "But I figured as much. It's a shame that I have to do this." With a flick of his wrist, the restraints snapped open, and the fiend rose from its slab like a 26th Century Frankenstein.

Nicole nearly shat her pants when she recognized two facts: the abomination was eight feet tall and _angry_. Again, she was too terrified to move as her legs turned to mush, merely trembling and waiting for death to swing its bony scythes. She didn't want to die, but this was as good a time as any. Her life flashed before her eyes – privileged yet unhappy upbringing, flying through medical school, meeting the love of her life.

But the blow didn't come. The thing looked at her a moment with rheumy yellow eyes, snarled… and lashed out at Mercer. The blade nicked his torso, making him yell. Crimson blood spurted from the wound – that was the only thing human about him.

"Hah! Even your monster hates you!" She wasn't sure whether these were the actions of a caged animal or if some semblance of Harris craved revenge. Either way, the sight of Mercer's hubris doing him in made her laugh. Before it could deliver the killing blow, though, the mad doctor pressed a few buttons on his RIG.

The monster didn't roar this time; it _shrieked _in agony. Though not human anymore, the way its necrotic muscles contracted and its back arched implied extreme suffering. What did he do?! "Kill her! Kill the infidel, not me!"

It charged her with readied sickles. Instinct took over. She wanted to be mature enough to die with some dignity, but her body wouldn't let her! She dove out of the way, bashing her shoulder on cold, unforgiving steel. The monster crashed into some shelves, sending severed heads raining down on them both. One splatted at her face, sprinkling her cheeks with decaying blood – Ms. Arnold-Fernandez, smiling wide. Were it not for the hulking zombie, she wouldn't have hesitated to end Mercer then and there. He stared at her while applying some Somatic Gel, eyes full of hatred.

But to her shame, she ran.

Her lab coat billowed behind her as she sprinted down the dim corridor, the monster – her hunter – right behind. She was too scared to scream, but her legs somehow kept pumping while her mind raced to find a way to survive. Not easy with the sounds of the damned closing in.

She couldn't lead it anywhere near the ER – that's where the deck staff congregated to care for patients, and she wouldn't lead this thing to more victims. The Imagining Diagnostics Ward and Biological Prosthetics Center were too far away; it'd overtake her before she arrived. _The ICU, _she thought as it slashed at her heels, nearly ripping her coat off in the process.

Yes, it was nearby, and the surgery chambers were made of bulletproof glass! Matters of food and water didn't matter – it'd buy her time. She whirled left at the next intersection and shoved a cart into the monster's path, though it barreled through the obstruction like a juggernaut! The ICU's door loomed large before her… closed. _Fuck! _Her heart raced and lungs flamed as she dashed faster than ever before, putting a little distance between herself and the roaring, howling killing machine.

Her fluttering, sweaty hand slammed into the hologram so hard it made her wrist numb. She didn't want to look at the zombie (and it felt so wrong for her to use that term as a doctor), but her eyes flew to the impossible monstrosity.

_Twenty feet… _Its eyes were fire.

_Fifteen feet… _In the failing light, it was the grim reaper.

_Ten feet… _Its broken body matched her spirit.

_Five feet… _The door slid open.

She leapt through as it stabbed the ground she'd occupied a moment before. One more second and she would have been impaled. While it attempted to yank its blades from solid metal, she opened one of the surgery chambers, threw herself inside and sealed the door. The hermetically sealed chamber filtered out the sickly stench of death, which she'd grown used to. Almost disappointed her as she vomited, gasping for air. The past minutes become crystal clear without immediate danger clouding her judgement.

_Holy shit, _she thought, wiping her mouth. _Zombies. Zombies are real. _The subject of shlock films through the ages existed. If aliens were implausible, how much more so the undead?! The questions of "why" and "how" pounded her brain. _Did the Marker do this? Is it related to people going crazy? _Both Kyne and Mercer seemed to think so. Though she doubted it at the beginning, that was the only explanation. It made sense, too – homicidal and suicidal people created more corpses to rise from the dead.

The monster's blades were really wedged tight into the bulkhead. It reminded her of an ancient legend – people being unable to pull a sword from stone or something like that. Myths never interested her… but that's exactly what she saw. _The Unis were actually right. Kind of. _Their "god" turned out to be evil, but that didn't negate that it was a deity, able to raise the dead.

With a mighty effort, the creature wrenched its arms free and prowled toward the chamber. _It can't get in. This is ballistic glass. _Anything that could resist modern firearms must have been too tough for anything biological to breach.

_And how can the Marker alter tissue on a cellular level? _According to Mercer, the victims' very DNA was altered (albeit slightly), and she saw no reason for him to lie about that. _A virus? Some sort of radiation? _It'd have to be something unknown to science, considering neither possibility had been detected by the most advanced scanners. _Maybe there's a way to stop or reverse it… _She hadn't made any progress searching for a cure to the dementia, so what made her think she could cure a zombie plague? Desperation, that's what.

"Try to get me," she spat at the creature, which stood right outside. It allowed an unparalleled view of "life after death". Most would have been disgusted – and she was – yet it also fascinated her as a physician. The lighting could have been better, yet she recognized several major bones just underneath its skin, so the skeletal structure was relatively unchanged. The same couldn't be said for the organs, which had been assimilated into muscle tissue. Harris wasn't a bulky man, so that was the only explanation for the additional mass; he didn't need them anymore.

Her hypothesis was that the "psychosomatic energy field" Kyne referred to altered deceased cells and made them, well, _this. _Wouldn't work on living subjects, though; the immune system was a strong defense, which explained why the infection wasn't spread through bites or cuts like in the movies. Well, she could look into it once the creature wandered –

It thrust a blade into the glass, cracking it. Her empty stomach turned to iron. It punched harder, rattling the enclosure. She then realized her error; this was hardly safety. It was a cage. A third impact caused bits of glass to rain at her feet.

She sighed and sat on the surgery cot. The monster still needed a few minutes to break through, so this was a good time to reflect on life and death. _I should let it kill me, _she thought. Even if she escaped, there was nowhere to run. No options, no ideas, no hope. That wasn't what scared her, though. Even becoming one of these abominations didn't sound too bad – most people aboard were already dead, it seemed like, so the odds she'd murder someone were relatively slim.

What terrified her most was the knowledge Isaac would never know what became of her. Either the ship's corpse would eternally drift in the void or EarthGov would send a covert retrieval mission after they all died. Either way, her boyfriend would spend the rest of his life without answers. That thought terrified her more than the literal monster hacking away at her glass enclosure with blade-arms.

She needed to get out and send a message. It'd take decades to reach Earth with the RelayNet down. Isaac would be an old man or dead by the time it arrived, yet the sentiment remained. Dying wouldn't be so scary if she knew news of her fate was out there, flying between the stars. It was a mere matter of finding a computer.

Roaring again, the monster delivered its most powerful blow yet, sending its arm completely through the glass. It gave a howl of both pleasure and pain, and Nicole wondered how much of Harris was still in there, if any. _I need a weapon! _But there was nothing here; no guns, nothing to throw, and the thing would laugh at scalpels. _There has to be something I can…_

Her eyes wandered to the medical tissue laser hanging from the ceiling. It assisted her on many surgeries throughout the last few days – very good at cutting flesh. She leapt onto the swaying cot as the necrotic creature expanded its hole. Maybe thirty seconds remained before it could enter.

_OK, what do I do?! _she thought over bellows, unhooking the laser from its position. Her gibbering patients occasionally muttered nonsense about "cutting off limbs"; was that the best way to beat these things? Actually made sense, considering organ damage wasn't an issue for them. Headshots would also do little if the Marker sustained their existences. _Dismemberment will stop it from moving. Got it._

Twenty seconds.

Of course, tissue lasers were for that: _tissue. _They couldn't generally slice through bone. _Fuck. _She slammed her makeshift weapon on the cot and fiddled with it as best she could, fingers flailing. Her boyfriend may have been the engineer, but she knew a thing or two about medical equipment. A couple wires crossed, an extra power cell inserted, and she had something akin to a Plasma Cutter. _It'll void the warranty and is probably illegal, but this is worth it. _She was ashamed to find any semblance of humor in the situation.

Ten seconds.

Her aching hands trembled, and she feared the laser would slip from her grasp. The thing knew it was close. It paused a moment to probe her face for fear. Hopefully it came away disappointed. Then it delivered a final mighty blow, stepping inside. Again, she was inundated with the aroma of rot.

Then she fired. Just like that, the monster's right leg limply fell away, and the monster with it. She stepped back to avoid being crushed before backing up as far as she could. It was stunned for a moment, seemingly confused by being injured, and she took the opportunity to leap over. She stumbled as she hit the ground behind it, grunting in pain as broken glass dug into her back. But she was alive and couldn't contain her excitement.

She watched the writhing monster for a moment before blasting off the rest of its limbs with her remaining power cells. That left it a head and torso quivering on a pile of glass. Satisfied, she turned to leave… until a disgusting squelching noise captured her attention. Slowly, she looked over her shoulder, unable to believe the sight.

Tissue burst out of the bloody stumps, forming new makeshift appendages. It staggered back up, quickly collecting its severed limbs, which it assimilated back into its own biomass. In moments, it "lived" again, looking no worse for wear than it did originally.

_You're hallucinating. _Oh, _this _was the part that didn't happen?! She knew better. Running to the other side of the ICU's door, she began messing with the small control panel beside it, desperately trying to seal the chamber! Closer it walked, still adjusting to its new appendages. More than that, it seemed hesitant. She was at the threshold of passing out. "Harris, I don't know if you're still in there," she cried, drawing its piercing yellow gaze at it approached, "but if you are, I know you're not a killer. You were tricked by the Marker like everyone else. You don't have to do this!"

The pleas were mostly out of desperation, but to her shock, the thing actually paused a moment. Its remaining facial features looked almost nostalgic; it remembered another time.

Until another surge of pain arced down its body, making it shriek. Mercer must have implanted some kind of torture device into what remained of its nervous system. Harris' brief sapience disappeared in an instant. Screaming and desperate, she bashed the control panel with the butt of her weapon as the monster sprinted forward.

The door slammed shut – "**MALFUNCTION", **the now red hologram in its center proclaimed.

She ran away as her hunter roared and pounded at the threshold. _Hunter… _It was as good a name as any.

…

He was doomed. Mathius was dead. The escape shuttles had been launched. Aegis was quarantined, so no civilian ships would come to assist, and EarthGov ones would more likely blow up the Ishimura to keep this plague contained.

The whole ship died. It was too soon to say whether this death would be quick and dramatic, such as a malfunctioning reactor blowing up the Ishimura in a dazzling fireball, or a slower, more subtle demise, like oxygen slowly leaking through the hull. Didn't matter to him. The only thing left to do was walk.

And walk he did, seemingly for hours, though it must have been far less. He wandered through darkened, echoing hallways, fighting off ever-worsening migraines and hallucinations. Flashes of red and black still warred for control of his psyche. Fortunately, the Shadow Man largely stayed away, letting the titanic war of colors play out… though it seemed to bet on red. His head constantly pounded, and he had to deactivate the holographic readouts to find a semblance of calm.

"**Crew Deck"**, the bulkhead before him read. This was where the danger really began. He placed a hand on the blue hologram, muscles tensing for what happened once the door opened. There could be dozens waiting on the other side. _Dying will be worth it if I kill two or three, _he thought, wanting to believe killing some higher, holy purpose. In truth, he recognized himself merely as a butcher, though perhaps a useful one.

The door slid open to reveal an empty hallway, though that might have been an illusion. Half expecting a wave of invisible zombies to overwhelm him, he stepped forward. Then again. He was convinced that his eyes told the truth after three more paces. Of course, potential death still lurked around every corner, leading him to probe the darkness with the flashlight attached to his Line Gun. By now, it felt more like an extension of himself than a weapon or even a tool.

Signs of battle tarnished the corridors as he pressed on. His light revealed blood splotches and severed limbs haphazardly flung about, the aftermath of an undead hurricane. He hated the fact that this no longer turned his stomach. Instead, he got down on his knees and rummaged through the more intact bodies he encountered across for anything of value. _They don't need weapons or ammunition anymore, _he told himself to justify his graverobbing.

Their faces, locked in silent screams, begged to differ.

Eventually, he found a decapitated woman with a few power cells and a mostly empty Med Pack in her torn pockets. He wanted to thank her corpse for providing these treasures, but he knew that'd only stoke his insanity. Therefore, he stood up to continue, spotting her severed head a little farther down.

It was the woman from Unitology headquarters. Though battered and caked with cruor, there was no doubt in his mind. Maybe it was a vision, yet would it have been better if so? He closed his eyes and walked away, more apprehensive than ever about his ill-gotten gains and trying to ignore his own sobs. Whispers and skittering haunted blackened corners, driving him madder. To calm himself, he ran his hand over the Marker effigy in his pocket.

_You can't last forever._

A little while later, he heard gunfire far away. _That's what I'm here for. Maybe Sam is there. _At the very least there were people. Fighting against the agony, he pushed forward. The last of the Somatic Gel from the used container was funneled toward his legs, which eased the pain slightly as it seeped through his pores. _Run now, worry later._

That was a difficult order to keep as his environment shifted. The walls and floor were dented in places; something _big _smashed through here. Fires burned in the corners, so the suppression systems must have failed at some point. And the bodies disappeared. That part would have encouraged most people, yet he knew better.

He spotted a few landmarks, such as now-broken SUN cola machines and a holo-poster for Dejarta water, that informed him he approached the Mess Hall, the place where he munched on peanuts while basking in shockspace's glow. The gunshots quickened as he neared, intermingling with shouts and roars.

Curtis rounded the corner just in time to spot a man in a white uniform scramble over a guardrail and drop down into another subdeck. The blood-red suns burned through the cracked glass while planetary debris field drifted closer. Around where he stood were half-a-dozen dismembered Necromorphs twitching on the floor as the last of their "life" departed. Very impressive. So notable, in fact, that he half wondered if the man was a hallucination (especially because he wore what appeared to be a P-Sec uniform, and they were all dead on the colony) until he heard whispering from below. _He's part of a group. That makes sense._

"That was the last," a man said. The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it.

"Are you sure? We thought that before," another man replied, this one with an accent that sounded like one from the Pan-European Sector, or perhaps the Scandinavian.

"I… I don't _feel _anything." This voice was a woman's, and the words confused him. What would she feel?

He gave the bodies a wide berth, just in case one of them had a little more fight left in it, before peering over the railing. The sight made his jaw drop.

It was that party from the colony he'd spotted on Mathius' video feed a couple hours before – the P-Sec officer, the old guy, the young lady and Weller.

"Gabe?!" he exclaimed. He knew he should have been more careful with monsters about, yet he couldn't contain his shock and joy. Jumpy as they were, all four spun around, their weapons (Gabe has a Pulse Rifle and the other three, Divet pistols) still drawn. He was too surprised to duck. The bullets pinged off his RIG, and harsh metallic boings rattled around his skull.

"Wait! Hold your fire!" Gabe barked, and the barrage immediately stopped. He was clearly the one in charge, and the amount of sway he held over these people – two of them non-military – astonished Curtis. Not as much as nearly getting riddled with bullets, however. "Whoever you are, you're lucky you're wearing a mining RIG. Anything else and those rounds would have eviscerated you." Thank Altman they must have had the weapons on the lowest settings; wouldn't want a stray round to punch through the hull and decompress the area. "Now get down here."

He wasn't going to argue; this was the best thing that could have happened! His emotions had been yanked around so much in the past hours, flying from elation to horror to shock to insanity, that he faltered. Upon trying to clamber over the balustrade, he slipped and fell. Seemed to last forever, and he actually enjoyed it. Just like being in zero-gravity… until he hit the floor half a second later. That knocked the wind out of him, and his vision spun as the four figures clustered around him.

Gasping for breath, he retracted his helmet. Gabe's eyes went wide. "Mason? Am I seeing things or is that you?"

"It's… me," he hacked, slowly getting to his feet.

"Friend of yours?" the P-Sec officer remarked.

"Coworker." Curtis was annoyed, but he understood that Weller had to look tough for these people, and badasses didn't need friends.

"But you – you're all from the colony! What happened?! How did you get here?! Where's your shuttle?!" Questions raced through his head a mile a minute.

"Got blown up by the ADS," the European man replied. Curtis' heart sank, and he nearly collapsed again. Should have known better than to have hope. He almost would have preferred them to be hallucinations so that he didn't have to be so jaded. "We thought it'd be safer up here, but it seems like the Ishimura's having the same trouble."

_So they don't know about the Captain and our shuttles. _Telling them and quashing their expectations now would have been the merciful thing, but as he surveyed the four dirty, tired faces, he simply couldn't. Maybe in an hour or two, yet they needed time to see how fucked the situation up here was. In the meantime, he was loathe to introduce himself to all these new faces who could be snatched away at a moment's notice, but teaming up was the most successful way to stay alive, and he needed to earn their trust.

He fully expected that voice in the back of his head to say something like, "You're going to die, anyway. Why bother?" But it didn't. For the first time in a while, it felt like his mind was truly his own. He could finally hear himself think!

"My name's Curtis. As the outfit suggests, I'm a miner," he said. "It's nice to meet all of you."

The others quickly introduced themselves, much to Gabe's annoyance. He wanted to soldier on, but not everyone was, well, a soldier… though Nathan McNeill was. P-Sec officer and veteran of the Resource Wars' final days, where he fought beside Weller. _That _was an interesting tidbit – one that the latter man wasn't too happy about being slipped.

Next came Warren Eckhardt, a CEC executive sent to oversee the planet crack and make sure the "company's interests" were being enforced. Curtis was tempted to grill him about mining in a quarantined system but decided against it. He may have been a big fish, but the CEC had plenty of sharks – this wasn't his fault.

And finally, Lexine Murdoch. She was a Class 2 Surveyor, which was damn impressive for a woman as young as her – 20, maybe 25. Also pretty cute, a fact that he hated acknowledging. Like, couldn't his hormones calm down at a time like this?!

Overall, it was a strange assortment, all brought together by circumstance and survival. McNeill and Weller were obviously the protectors, considering they had training, but the other two wielded pistols as well as they reasonably could, given the situation. They must have functioned well together, considering how far they'd come, and their mental fortitude was astonishing, considering they didn't seem troubled by hallucinations (though they did all shoot him).

"Enough of this," Gabe eventually said. "Mason, you can come with us if you like, but don't expect me to pull your weight." Curtis couldn't tell if he joked. Still, he earned the right to be a dick. Seemed to keep everyone safe: no small feat. Therefore, he swallowed his pride and fell in line, simply happy that his friend was alive. "Now, we're going to the Bridge. I'm sure we'll be able to find out more from Captain Mathius."

He _needed_ to tell the truth. Better to yank the Band-Aid off now get it over with. "Look, I'm not exactly sure how to tell you this…" he began as Gabe placed his hand on the exit's hologram. His stomach churned at the prospect of seeing four more utterly hopeless faces. "But the Captain… is…" His throat went so dry he couldn't complete his sentence before the door opened. And when that happened, he was on the ground.

"Everybody freeze!" a man shouted. Lexine screamed.

_This again?! Maybe these assholes should fucking die so they stop tackling me! _He regretted the thought as soon as it formed, but still! Before he could get his helmet back up, someone already tasered him in the neck, making his vision spin.

"Drop your weapons!" a woman added. The voice sounded familiar, and he turned to look at her through his foggy eyes.

Took him a moment, but he recognized her as Alissa Vincent, the Chief Security Officer and Gabe's boss, a fact that clearly mortified him. "Chief it's me! It's – "

"I know perfectly well who you are Sergeant, and I gave you an order. Drop your weapon and get on your knees." Reluctantly, Gabe did as he was told, face flushing crimson. Maybe this'd teach him some humility. In his half-awake state, though, his worst fears ran rampant, though he still felt oddly free of the Marker's touch.

_What if Vincent and her team have gone rouge? What if they're cannibals and they're going to eat us? _Stupid, but so were mutant space zombies. That was the last thing he thought before blacking out.

**3 Hours Post-Outbreak**

Nicole juggled a dozen different things at once. Comms were still down – she didn't even bother to check anymore – so she flitted between different rooms and stations primarily on instinct, helping who she could. She'd gotten right pack to work after slapping some Somatic Gel on her injuries. Through it all, she kept her eyes and ears open for any sign of approaching danger. After all, she had a message to send.

At the moment, she finished bandaging up a crewman who'd been sliced by one of the creatures. "You'll be OK."

She lied through her teeth, of course. None of them would survive. Lying to patients was malpractice, but she didn't want them to spend their final hours in fear. Far better for them to drift off with their hallucinations of family and friends telling them to kill themselves; plenty tried. Someone tapped her on the shoulder, making her whirl around.

"Sorry about that, Dr. Brennan," Perry said. She was lucky to have found him again, at least.

"It's fine," she replied while wiping her bloodied hands on her pants. Actually, it wasn't, but Perry was her only friend left. The others – the guys she played Z-Ball with – she doubted she'd ever see again. "What is it?"

"I ran into Chief Vincent. She arrested four colonists who snuck on board, plus an accomplice and wants to put them in quarantine, just in case." Either they were zombies, or they weren't, but what the Hell? Vincent put her life on the line for the Ishimura; the least Nicole could do was provide a basic check-up. She'd be back in fifteen minutes.

Sighing, she replied, "I'll head over to the quarantine area. Look after these people until I return, and then get some rest. You look like you need it." Really, _everyone _looked and felt like shit.

She travelled the deserted deck, looking for any signs of movement. There were none, neither from the living nor the dead. _Aren't there supposed to be more people around? _She honestly wasn't sure whether there'd always been few people and she hadn't noticed it or the Marker fucked with her head or if most of the staff had already somehow been killed. For the moment, it didn't matter.

She ducked into the small quarantine area, seeing Vincent, a small team of bloodied soldiers, and five unconscious forms that they dragged behind – _Gabe?! Curtis?! _No doubt about it; two of her friends survived after all!

"Quick, put them in quarantine tubes!" she barked, pointing to the decontamination units along the wall. Vincent's people complied, lugging the bodies into the holders while she made sure they didn't break anything.

"Ramirez, that is _not _how you handle a fucking person! And Hanson, don't touch their injuries, or you'll get a few more of your own!" Kind of remarkable that Vincent managed to get a position like this with such a mouth, but Nicole couldn't argue with results; her people obeyed without question. She still couldn't believe it – two of her friends were actually OK. The notion made her giddy.

_Kind of sad I consider them friends after only a week, though. _Or was it? She was far more accustomed to interacting with people as coworkers or acquaintances. Though if they were still alive… "Did you also see another man? Big guy, muscular, has a ponytail?"

"Yes, actually. Irons, right?" She couldn't believe it. Somehow, all her friends survived! That was nothing short of miraculous… though she supposed with the zombie apocalypse in full swing, she really needed to believe in miracles. "I ran into him right before picking these guys up. He's with some of my other people – comms are still down, but we're rendezvousing soon, and he was all right last I heard." Peace descended upon her, the first she felt in a long time. Simply knowing that they were all safe, even if for a moment… it meant the world to her.

"Vincent… thank you." She nodded, seeming to understand how much this meant for her. With that, she and her guards departed, off to fight another battle in a pointless war. Nicole admired that. They all knew their situation was hopeless, yet they fought regardless. If only she could be so strong.

That left her with five unconscious people in hermetically sealed glass tubes; not much in the way of company. Sighing, she sat down at an empty terminal, the room's only piece of furniture. The temptation to send that "message in a bottle" to Isaac was strong, but these people needed her, so she forced the urge down and instead began running tests.

The monitors displayed dozens of biological processes: heart rate, injuries, blood pressure, cholesterol, etc. Amazing how much modern technology could pick up. Everyone looked more or less healthy. There were some minor injuries, but those could be fixed with Somatic Gel. Their immune systems were also compromised – the same low leukocyte count that affected everyone. _That makes sense now; must be an aspect of the Marker signal to make people more susceptible to infection._

They all looked normal enough… except the girl.

"Lexine Murdoch," according to the genetic scanners – Class 2 Surveyor on the colony whose boyfriend was one of the first to snap.

Her readings were bizarre. BP was very high; not unusual in itself, but strange when the person was unconscious, especially someone so young. Her white blood cell count was pretty much _normal _while brain activity was off the charts! _What the Hell?_

She expanded that diagram specifically before making sure the machine wasn't busted. _No, it's working. _Still, she had a difficult time believing the figures. Instead of alpha, beta, theta or any usual brain wave pattern, Lexine's were highly irregular, spiking and dipping like a seizure, though she clearly did fine. _Is there a pattern, though?_

It wasn't long after that they began to wake. Curtis stirred first, and she was beside him when he did. After a few seconds of grogginess, he shot awake when he realized he couldn't move; his arms and legs were in clamps. "Hey, it's OK! Calm down." His eyes drifted in different directions for a moment before settling on her. Before he could question his own sanity, she said, "Yes, I'm real. And it's really good to see you again."

"Likewise, Nicole." A small smile formed on his battered face. "Uh, could you let me out, though?"

"Of course. This was just to check you for infection, and you're all fine." Upon hearing "infection", his smile turned to a glower.

"For how much longer…"

She would have responded, but others began to rouse, as well. Interfacing her RIG with the pod, it popped open, and Curtis stumbled out, his heavy RIG clunking on the floor. Then she went to the others, quickly yet carefully releasing them all. Had to be careful; if she didn't follow decontamination protocol to the letter, the automatic quarantine would trip, and they'd be stuck. It normally wasn't difficult to get someone to unseal the room from the other side, but now it'd be a challenge.

"This is Nicole Brennan, the Senior Medical Officer," Gabe said to his three companions. They all introduced themselves, though that was a mere formality, considering she had access to their genetic information. The only one that rubbed her the wrong way was Eckhardt; apparently, he was some CEC executive big shot, but there was hardly anything on his file. Didn't seem normal, but what did she know?

He also stood a little too close to Lexine, looked at her a little too often. Maybe he wasn't a creepy old pervert, yet that was the kind of vibe he gave off. _No, I shouldn't assume. I thought that about Curtis, and he turned out to be a nice guy. Well, and Mercer, who's a psychopath._

"So, you three know each other? Are you friends?" McNeill asked, pointing between her, Gabe and Curtis.

"Yes, we do," she replied, deciding to leave it at that. For the latter part, she looked to the other two.

"I think we are," Curtis said. "Even if Weller's too much of a hard-ass to admit it." Gabe didn't say anything, merely rolling his eyes.

"Aw, Weller, I knew you had a soft side," Lexine teased. It actually made her chuckle. Like, she felt awful laughing while people suffered and died around her, yet she couldn't quite bring herself to stop. In a couple minutes, she'd have to get back out there and start saving people fated to die shortly thereafter.

Still, in the time remaining, the group chatted jovially, not broaching the subjects of monsters or death in the slightest. Even Gabe opened up a little, if only to boost his companions' morale. All except Eckhardt, who slunk off toward the computer terminal.

No. Not again. She'd had enough creepy men finagle with computers to last a lifetime. Then he pulled up Lexine's personal information. She was about to bend this weirdo's ear, but Lexine noticed, as well. "Eckhardt, do you need anything?" Ah, a woman who wasn't afraid to deal with nasty men. Made her jealous, but then again, this guy didn't have a zombie slave to sic on her. He whirled around; guilt clear on his face.

Before he could reply, however, his eyes rolled up and he collapsed against the terminal before slumping to the floor.

_Shit! _Before she could reach it, though, the quarantine had already tripped. Red, flashing lights portended the beginning of a long struggle, and Curtis suddenly got very tense.

"What happened?" McNeill said over the alarm.

"The decontamination pods sometimes make people pass out, especially older ones," she replied, berating herself for her stupidity. She shouldn't have allowed any of them anywhere near this thing! The blaring stopped as she fished a syringe of adrenaline from her pocket and gave Eckhardt a small dose. He moaned, and she helped him up. "Eckhardt here must have tripped the quarantine when he fell."

"I'm terribly sorry about that," he said, actually sounding apologetic. His remorse didn't change the fact that they were now stuck.

"Can't call anyone. No engineers around. The quarantine might end eventually, but who knows how long that'll be?" She paced the empty room, throwing out ideas to no one in particular.

"What about the vent?" Gabe asked, pointing to a duct on the wall. "Is that a way out?"

"Theoretically, yes, but I wouldn't recommend it. We're on the outer edge of the ship here. One wrong turn and you'll get sucked into space." Really, though, it might be their only option of escape.

"The monsters also use them to get around," Curtis interjected. Oh. That made sense. It also terrified her because they could burst out of the walls at any moment.

"Yeah, I know." Gabe already yanked the grate off and was about to climb in when McNeill approached.

"Hey, if anyone's going out there, it'll be me," he said. "You're the best soldier I know, and you have to protect these people."

Nicole sighed as the two started debating which one of them was more expendable, etc. She supposed she should be grateful that they were so enthusiastic, yet this seemed more of a metaphorical dick measuring contest than anything else. She was about to walk away when one of them mentioned something about the escape shuttles.

She and Curtis shared an uneasy glance. _They don't know? _Must have arrived after the launch. "You want to tell them, or should I?" she whispered in his ear as Lexine and Eckhardt joined the debate.

"Can you? You're a doctor – you know how to break bad news to people." Yeah, good point.

Clearing her throat, she walked up to the group, who all turned to her. "There's something I have to tell you. Before you arrived, the escape shuttles all launched empty." Their eyes widened. "We aren't getting out of here." This she tried to deliver in her most professional tone, the kind she'd take when informing a terminally ill person of their diagnosis, yet her voice cracked regardless. Wasn't so easy to be impartial with her own life on the line. It was made even worse by the fact she could have stopped it! _I don't deserve to get out of here, anyway._

After a few moments of silence, Gabe slumped over and sat down, silently fuming. As always, he saw any failure as his own. "Really? You're just giving up?" McNeill chided.

"Yeah. I guess I am," he muttered.

These clearly weren't the words Lexine wanted to hear. She stormed over and shouted, "Now wait just a minute! You're always going on about how surrendering to fear is the worst thing we can do, and now you're doing _this?! _You, Mr. Weller, are a hypocrite!"

"Look, sweetheart, I'm being realistic. There's no point chasing a fantasy of survival. The RelayNet's down, the ship's not moving for whatever reason, and the shuttles are gone. What the Hell are we supposed to do?"

"Wait a minute." Eckhardt stepped forward, a gleam in his eye. "I know that there's often a spare shuttle or two that are undergoing standard maintenance. They'd be deactivated and couldn't be remotely launched. If we get down to the hanger, I think we could find one."

Hmm. That might be true. Probably not, but maybe. It was something – enough to get Weller's attention. They all looked at him expectantly. "Hear that, Gabe? We have a chance," McNeill said. With that, he clambered into the vent and disappeared.

A hush fell over the room. Exhaustion set in. The outbreak began only a few hours ago, but they were the most tiring of her life. "No… I can't sleep," she muttered, eyes already drooping. She could still hear the man crawling in the shaft. "Not with people still in trouble."

"If you get some rest, you'll be able to help out more," Curtis replied. "The best thing we can do now is trust McNeill to get us out."

"Yeah…" People all went to separate corners of the barren room – Lexine and Weller stayed together (the latter scared Eckhardt off, fortunately) while Curtis and Nicole found their own nook. There was nothing to sleep on but the cold metal floor, so Nicole spread out her bloodied lab coat and lay on that, shivering. It didn't matter. Sleep would come regardless. Amazingly, the hallucinations and migraines stayed away; this was the best her head felt in days.

"You want to get in this?" Curtis asked, pointing to his RIG.

Her face reddened. _How can he be coming onto me at a time like this?! I already told him I'm with someone! _"I thought you changed, but you're still a creep."

Instantly, he was mortified. "Not – not like that! I meant maybe you'd like to sleep _in my RIG_." It's not comfortable, but it's better than the ground."

Now it was her turn to be embarrassed. Lethargy made her brain slow to a crawl. "Sorry. Yeah, that'd be great, if you're willing."

"No problem." Took some effort, but he eventually stripped out of his full-body RIG and handed it to her. Not her size, but that hardly mattered. The metal suit was nice and warm, both from Curtis' body heat and the strain on its electronic components being overworked. She could have done without the body odor and sweat, but she wasn't complaining.

At last, she was in the thing, awkward and uncomfortable (though sleeping on the floor never felt great) but at least warm. Laying down next to him, she felt grateful, and not just for this.

"Good night, Curtis."

"Yeah. Good night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, readers! Or happy Hanukah, New Years, Kwanza – whatever winter holiday(s) you celebrate. It’s a little early for those, but I doubt I’ll update again this month. Another semester and round of finals has come and gone; I realize most of you probably don’t care about my personal life, but it’s amazing to think I’ll soon finish college. I’ll be sure to overhaul my profile at some point so you can follow me there, if you’d like.
> 
> Anyway, I’m fairly happy with this chapter. Maybe I’m a hypocrite for saying that I love the lore of Dead Space and then have stuff like Nicole fighting the Hunter (who is still kind of sapient, as well) that never happened, but I hope you like that kind of stuff, regardless. By the way, no piece of lore ever explains why the Ishimura doesn’t just head back to Earth once the outbreak starts. That’s a huge plot hole I’m intentionally leaving open – maybe the engines are busted or something; don’t know.
> 
> I’m also trying to pick up the pace; 60,000 words in and I haven’t even introduced the Stalker yet. Don’t worry, she’ll show up soon… hopefully. Your thoughts and feedback are deeply appreciated – I love knowing what you like or didn’t like and your suggestions on how to fix the latter. My biggest concern for this chapter is descriptions – are they getting stale? I see many authors paint scenes so vividly, and I don’t know if I capture the same magic. Thoughts?
> 
> Speaking of which, thanks to PUZZLEMASTER1998, CRIMSON AN’XILEEL, TYRANICALREPTILE and ANCIENTOFDAYZ for reviewing. You’ve commented on all my previous chapters and followed me here from ASaF to do so. It means so much for me to have your support. I hope all of you realize that (and you too, DERPYSAUCE).
> 
> Finally, just to shill my other stuff, you can find me at Ko-Fi as ANINVISIBLEMAN, if you’d like to kick a few bucks my way. That’s completely optional, of course, and it’s far more rewarding to simply have my work read.


	8. Kindness and Cruelty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (almost) New Year, everyone! New decade, even! That's so weird for me. I was in middle school in 2010, and these last ten years have been the only parts of my life I remember. It's been a crazy decade for both me and the world in general, and probably for a lot of you, as well. I suspect things will be even stranger by 2030, and I hope I'm still around then to keep writing! Also in the news – today's my birthday. Just turned 22. However, I'll stop with the sentimental stuff and get into the meat of this update.
> 
> It's a more character-oriented chapter, and my goal was to contrast Curtis and Nicole – their intellects, their hobbies and how they survive. That's a huge dynamic, so please tell me how well you think I convey those ideas. I also don't want Nicole to be primarily defined by her profession and boyfriend (I even reference that in the chapter), so hopefully I'm doing enough with her. You might be wondering why I'm doing so much with Nicole when most of you already know what happens to her. Well… you'll just have to find out!
> 
> I also hope people enjoy my portrayal of Gabe Weller. In the games, he's a complete hardass who never shows weakness, but I'm trying to capture a more human side of him without sacrificing that. Hopefully it comes across that he's more of a reluctant badass in this universe.
> 
> The Stalker still doesn't appear, unfortunately, but I promise that she will soon; two more chapters at most, but probably the next one. And speaking of her, I'm going to begin scouting for an artist in the next few days. For the art, I was thinking about two pieces – one of her and Curtis snuggling somewhere safe-ish and another of them looking badass and getting ready to fight off some Necromorphs. Do both of those sound OK to everyone?
> 
> Finally, big thanks to PUZZLEMASTER1998, TYRANICALREPTILE, CRIMSON AN'XILEEL, BLAUORANGE, ANCIENTOFDAYZ, INCENDUSCHUMERA and DERPYSAUCE for your reviews. Couldn't do it without you!

_Where am I?_

All Curtis knew about his surroundings was that they were dark, cold and… wet? Water flowed around him, though he didn't need to breathe. He trudged through the primeval ooze, which sucked at his feet like undead hands. Small lights from deep-sea fish and invertebrates just barely illuminated a barren dreamscape. _And this is a dream. _Then again, he could no longer trust his own senses – perhaps _everything _was illusory.

Taking a few more steps forward, he spied an obelisk of midnight framed against the black. Curtis didn't know how he could see something so dark. It lilted to the right, held upright only by the slime's powerful grip.

Whispered chants drilled into the back of his mind as he wallowed through icy goo – if only he still had his RIG on. After what seemed an eternity, he reached the menhir's base, which was coated in symbols just barely discernable in the sallow light.

"Why I am dreaming of you?" he muttered at the Black Marker. Why not the red one? He'd seen it with his own eyes, unlike this relic. Really, he didn't want to dream at all. Far better to rise and try to help people in what little time remained, yet his eyes refused to open.

_**BECA… …ED… …HE…**_A thunderous staccato voice boomed in his mind and quivered the water around him with its psychic vigor. Curtis yelped and sluggishly leapt back. Discomfort and even fear instantly vanished, sucked away by the dark water. Only one feeling remained: awe.

It reminded him of the Shadow Man, albeit much, much greater. This was the voice of God – evil or not, it demanded his respect. He fell to his knees, unable to speak. "Wh-what?" he mouthed, feebly attempting to communicate with something infinitely his greater.

_**NNOT… …NTERFE… …YCHI… **_Only a few scraps of discernable sound punched through the static veil. The Marker's symbols glowed aquamarine, and it trembled.

"I don't understand."

The Marker's power waned. Its glowing symbols flickered out one by one, snuffed by the freezing currents. As it died and the dreamscape faded, Curtis' throbbing brain picked out a single word shrieked louder than all the rest.

_ **HELP.** _

**3 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Nicole slowly roused from a shallow half slumber. She only felt a little better than she did before (and she'd slept about 30 minutes, according to Curtis' RIG's internal clock), but more rest was impossible on such an uncomfortable surface. The mining gear helped slightly; without it, she wouldn't have gotten any sleep at all.

Speaking of which, Curtis already sat awake against the wall. He looked… different, somehow. Almost emaciated without the suit, and the bruises he sustained from operating the RIG for so long plainly showed despite the Somatic Gel. His eyes were what really took her aback, though; they were locked in a thousand-yard stare.

"Are you OK?" He nodded, though his pale face begged to differ. _Must have had some awful dreams. _Still, it was enough of a shot in the arm to force a ghost of a smile to her face. "Glad to hear it." She joined him, watching the others fidget in their sleep.

"I wonder where McNeill is," he mumbled after a few minutes. The words stewed a deep-seated fear within her; he should have returned by now. "Do you think he's alive?"

The question annoyed her. It begged a happy, gratifying answer instead of her honest opinion. Still, she couldn't find the voice to say that, in her professional opinion, the man wasn't coming back. "I don't know."

They stopped interacting for a minute while she examined her makeshift flesh-slicing weapon, which she'd forgotten about after her encounter with Mercer's "pet". Maybe it wasn't that important – they were all dead, anyway – but getting more familiar with it might buy her an extra hour or two. She assayed the device with her hands, trying to decide the best way to use it without wasting valuable power cells (which she'd found three or four of).

"Is that a Plasma Cutter?" Curtis asked, a gleam in his eye as he noticed _anything _mining-related. "Looks like one, but I've never seen that model before."

"It's a medical laser that I made some 'improvements' to. They use a lot of the same technology, though."

"If you wanted, I might be able to give you some tips with it – how to aim and stuff like that. That's one thing I'm good at, at least." For some reason, them weighing their professions and how lethal they could be amused her. And why not take up his offer? It'd provide a brief relief from her crippling worries.

He pointed his own Line Gun at the far wall; it was a souped-up version of her own weapon, so it provided a good demonstration tool. "You only use plasma at close-range, so you might not know it arcs."

"Really?" she asked. Not that she thought Curtis was messing with her, she just couldn't believe she never knew that.

"Yeah, it's counterintuitive. You'd think a glowing energy bolt would go in a straight line, but it has a little mass, so you have to account for that. In gravity, anyway." He deactivated the safety on his gun; the arms expanded, and blue laser sights danced on cold metal. "For example, at this distance, the bolt would hit a couple inches or maybe a foot under those dots. Can't fire because I don't want to waste ammo, though."

"Plus you'd scare all these sound sleepers," she added, coaxing out a laugh. "Though maybe they'd be happier awake, given how much they're twitching."

His laughter brought warmth to her chest. She'd never thought of herself as funny and didn't want to be. Physicians needed to be serious, though Isaac occasional told her she needed to lighten up. Again, she was torn. Humor may have helped her deal with her own situation, but it disrespected the people who still needed her help. Fortunately, Curtis took her mind off that with another question.

"How many Necromorphs have you fought, if you don't mind me asking? And what kinds?"

"Necromorphs?" "Dead forms", in Latin. It was a good descriptor for these shambling nightmares. Better and less cliché than "zombies". _And kinds?! _Were there multiple phenotypes?

"That's what Kyne called them," he replied, shuddering at her coworker's name for whatever reason. His connections never ceased to amaze her.

"Just one, but it was enough; a lab rat made by an insane colleague of mine named Mercer. It could regrow limbs." Both facts made his face pale.

"That guy did have a mad scientist vibe."

"Seriously, how do you know so many people?" The words came out louder and more accusatory than she would have liked, causing Gabe, who began snoring, to roll onto his side. A little more softly, she said, "What about you?"

"Well, I haven't seen anything that could regenerate, but I've fought…" He paused to count the number of "species" (they were all created from human genetics) on his fingers, and her nerve shattered more with each raised. "Four or five types. There could be more."

He told her about each one, ostensibly so she knew what to look out for, yet it also sounded like he needed to get all this insanity off his chest. Nothing wrong with that; it was merely what she noticed. There were kinds that slashed, kinds that jumped, kinds that reanimated corpses. Each sounded like a brand-new nightmare… though that intimidation was dampened slightly by the names he assigned them: Slasher, Leaper, Infector.

They weren't corny or stupid, though. In fact, she appreciated being able to categorize these inhuman monsters. Still, she hoped the list stayed small.

With all this diversity, a common aspect of their biology was the presence of relatively fragile appendages – arms, legs, tentacles or proboscides – that would "kill" the Necromorph if enough were amputated. Most of them needed to rely on guns for that, but Curtis had something else he could make use of. "You might be able to use your grav-boots to dismember them if you activate one while over a limb." They all possessed similar technology, but only industrial-grade ones were enough to sever bone. _If only we had some stasis or kinesis modules._

A sliding door's pneumatic hiss shook Nicole from her reminiscing. Her heart skipped a beat as she whirled her head around; would it be McNeill or Mercer who found them?

_Be McNeill, _she thought as her vision adjusted, and she heaved a sigh of relief when she saw it indeed was. The fact he was battered and bloodied hardly encouraged her, but he was alive and kicking. That was enough for the moment.

"Nate! You're back!" Lexine exclaimed, springing awake to run up and give the man a hug. Even from their brief interactions, Nicole saw chemistry there. If only they didn't have to fall in love at the end of the world.

"Nice work, McNeill," Gabe added with a yawn. He didn't seem particularly affected by any of these compliments, merely pirouetting his Divet.

"Sorry. I had some of those crazy… _visions _again," he muttered as if that was an unusual thing. "I'm OK now, though."

She'd almost forgotten about the hallucinations. They'd progressively worsened since the Marker boarded but ceased when this group arrived. Was it coincidence, or did social interaction offset the symptoms? She desperately wished for more data. "Oh, and Dr. Brennan?" A scowl laced his mouth. "It doesn't look good outside."

_Fuck. _She wasn't surprised – the undead hordes breached about everywhere else on the ship – yet imagining her coworkers and patients being butchered enraged her. Maybe they'd all die, but she wasn't going to let that happen without a fight!

They hastened about for a few minutes, preparing themselves for departure. She stripped Curtis' RIG off and handed it back to him, donning her lab coat instead. It suited her far better. Meanwhile, the others searched the room for anything of use and naturally came away empty-handed. Then everyone turned to _her_; this was her turf, after all.

"What's the quickest way out of here?" Eckhardt asked.

Nicole paced the room, racking her brain for the fastest route as she pulled her jacket around her tighter. If only the comms weren't down, she could access the ship-wide Transnet and pull up a map. However, she believed she knew the fastest way by memory, though it wouldn't be pleasant.

Cringing, she said, "The shortest way to the tram station is through the morgue." As expected, the entire room stood aghast at the idea. "I don't like it, either, but it's a straight shot from the entrance to an elevator in the back that opens right near the ER, which is close to the gondola. Every other route takes at least twice as long." That was easy to say now, but what about when they arrived in the metal crypt? The infection must have spread there by now – the question was whether the creatures still prowled there or departed for more fertile hunting grounds.

Gabe and McNeill looked at each other and cringed before the former said, "We've had some trouble in mortuaries today, but if this is the only way… we'll do it." Hesitating, he turned to Lexine and Eckhardt before adding, "If it's all right with you two."

Wow. She never thought she'd see Gabe asking for feedback instead of barking orders. It impressed Lexine, as well, who replied, "If that's our best chance, we should take it."

She looked around. Including herself, they were six strong. Not all of them were the strongest or the toughest or the smartest people around… but they could do this. She somehow knew that. "All right, then. Let's go."

…

Curtis couldn't decide whether being part of a group was better or worse than freelancing his way through the apocalypse. On one hand, the extra eyes and ears were a great boon, but on the other, the responsibility might be crippling. How would he forgive himself if he let even more people die? Still, he supposed he'd rather die with others than alone.

Gabe and Eckhardt took the front while McNeill and Lexine were in back, both to reinforce each flank with a soldier as it was to keep the pervy old man as far away from the pretty young woman as possible. He and Nicole took up the middle.

"Hey, Curtis?" Gabe whispered back to him. "When we ran into each other, you said something was going on with the Captain?"

_Oh fuck. _This wasn't what he wanted to talk about right now… or at all. His throat went dry as he pondered the options. Remaining silent would put everyone on edge. The truth would make them realize all was lost – they already more-or-less knew that, but hitting them with another depressing dose of reality wouldn't help, especially in such a precarious situation. Against his better judgement, he lied.

"Oh, he's fine. I'll bet him and Kyne are working on a solution right now."

"Good, because I haven't been able to contact him through my priority channel," Nicole muttered. "Nice to know others are still out there… like Sam."

The name made him thumb the amulet in his pocket again. Why did she have to mention him? _Why did I have to lie? _The Shadow Man was still absent, amazingly. That meant the only one he had to blame for his actions was himself.

He swept his Line Gun across overturned IV drips and fresh corpses, red as blood in the emergency light. All this must have happened in the last hour. _Are the Necromorphs smart enough to knock out the power, or does it just happen when they tear shit up? _Disgusted as he was, Nicole took it far worse. Being a doctor, she wasn't squeamish, but she must have known some of these people for years! She stumbled along, cringing anew at each cadaver to blunt the pain. Silently, he put a hand on her shoulder in the pathetic hope of easing her suffering. She grunted, though he wasn't sure whether in pain or a semblance of appreciation.

"Take a left," she muttered, and Gabe did just that, pressing his back against the wall and slowly peering into the perpendicular corridor.

"All clear."

This continued for a few minutes more – Nicole providing terse directions while Gabe navigated through the dim hellscape. The stench of gore waxed and waned as they pushed deeper into the deck but generally grew stronger. Skittering in the vents and distant roars made him shudder. Legions of them might descend at any moment; all Curtis could do was trust in his friends and the Marker. He toyed with the necklace in his pocket, mulling over putting it on.

After all, it spoke to him in his dream… one of them, at least. "Help," it said. What did that mean? It caused this nightmare! He was tempted to dismiss it as a mere fantasy, yet it stuck with him. Notably, it was the Black Marker, which was dredged up from the Gulf of Mexico 300 years ago and not the Red Marker. He was stumped but couldn't stop the possibilities playing through his mind.

Before long, Eckhardt turned back and whispered, "We're here."

Curtis peeked around the corner. Sure enough, a dying holo-sign reading **"MORGUE" **flickered over a dented door. It looked ominous, but he didn't hear any particularly threatening noises emanating from beyond. They padded closer, his eyes going crazy as they did. Each new shape might lunge out at them. Still, he felt relatively calm and not too paranoid – visions of death and slinking shadows still skulked in the back of his mind, not the forefront. Survival would be easier without them.

The pack all nodded at each other, readying their weapons. Curtis released a timid cough, the closest sound to a chuckle he could produce – it reminded him of a sports team huddling together to work out a game plan. _Weller: get to the line of scrimmage and "disarm" the Slasher. McNeill: intercept the Leaper and cut its fucking tail off. _Or something like that. Despite his Z-Ball enthusiasm, he rarely knew what announcers talked about.

"How big is the morgue?" he whispered to Nicole as they crept forward. His voice resounded off steel and hissed back.

"Quite. The CEC likes to babble about safety, but you've seen this ship. It was a deathtrap even before the zombie apocalypse. Exposed electronics, shoddy grav-panels and poorly marked decks are fatalities waiting to happen. The BPC can only save so many. Used to be different, but this ship's been in continuous service for 62 years and was supposed to be decommissioned after this. Should have been years ago. So, yeah, there's a lot of room for the dead."

Right, he remembered seeing a blurb about the place being "renovated" on his first visit to the deck. That was definitely a nicer way of putting it. _Feels like lifetimes ago. But I'm glad I had that accident. Otherwise I wouldn't have met Nicole. _He glanced at her again for a moment before pulling himself away, biting his lip. His face burned under the mask even as his eyes were drawn… downward.

_Stop. Stop it right fucking now. _Being such a horny bastard made him ashamed of himself. He couldn't stop ogling women at the end of the world. It was disgusting! While her boyfriend doubtlessly worried himself sick wondering what happened, she was being creeped on by another man! _I'm never using Peng ever again if I survive. _This, too, was a lie, or at least wishful thinking.

His lips moved as he prayed to the Marker, asking the evil rock to suppress his libido for a little while.

They reached the ingress after what seemed like eternity. Gabe put his ear to it, listening for any sign of "life" beyond. "Don't hear anything." He beckoned Nicole forward to open the door, and she approached more bravely than he could have, though her forehead still glistened with sweat that looked like blood under the scarlet lights.

The hologram's concentric circles silently spun as it contemplated whether to let her in. The metal slab slid up with a gentle hiss after her genetics or RIG information or whatever the system looked for was processed.

They all looked at each other before entering.

…

The stench of decay slapped Nicole in the face as they crept into the darkened crypt… though it was more of punch to the gut for everybody else. Time and experience inoculated her against the worst. They all gagged on the pungent miasma save Curtis, whose helmet protected him. _He must be burning up in that thing. _Personally, she preferred being nimble and unprotected to a walking refrigerator that could take a few hits.

A holographic sign for the elevator burned like a torch about a hundred feet away on the opposite wall. As the only pool of light in a sea of darkness, she couldn't tell what dangers the voyage across would bring.

But she _heard _them.

Scraping noises and occasional gurgling emanated from parts unknown. The Necromorphs were here, but they didn't seem to notice the new arrivals. _Can't see in the dark, huh? _At least they had some limitations. The umbra was nearly absolute, but just enough background illumination existed for her to see Gabe point to the door and nod his silhouetted head.

She was scared – terrified, even – yet she somehow managed to remain upright. Maybe it was the presence of others giving her strength or the sheer desire to send Isaac that message. Or maybe she was stronger than she knew. Regardless, she found the courage to put one foot in front of another… into some strange slimy substance. _What? _She reached down to pull the sludge off her leg, but cold, fleshy ooze wrapped around her hands and tried to burrow into them.

_Corruption! _She nearly screamed the word Curtis coined, stepping back and bumping into McNeill. To her horror, he fell backwards. Time flowed differently in the pitch darkness, and it shoved horror down her throat. It felt like minutes before the two of them hit the ground with a dull _thud _that shook the room.

All heads shot toward them, and she somehow sensed disappointment in their unseen expressions. She'd just doomed them all. Her last action in life tore the Hippocratic Oath to shreds. It nearly made her cry… but that'd only kill them faster.

To her amazement, however, nothing happened. The skittering stopped for a few moments before picking up exactly as it had before. Huh. Maybe these aberrations were dumber than she thought.

She shakily got to her feet before they struck out again. The Corruption sucked at her feet, trying to consume them into its own biomass, so they all moved as quickly as they could through the morass; who knew what would happen if they stayed in one place too long? Would it actually eat them?

It went shockingly smoothly. The Necromorphs kept their distance, largely sticking to the other side of the room. Whenever one dragged itself nearer, they paused and it eventually either passed them or withdrew. Nicole saw more as her eyes adjusted to the dark, though she would have preferred to remain blind.

The cots and tables that once held bodies were now empty, save for the putrid bloodstains formed when they rose from the dead and staggered away. A few corpses that were too corroded to serve as the virus' soldiers instead bonded with the Corruption, which crept into their orifices and slowly assimilated every cell it could. She occasionally caught glimpses of knotty shapes shambling through the gloam. Not human – not anymore.

It made her blood boil. While she didn't believe in the sanctity of the human body like Unitologists, she still saw it as remarkable, maybe even beautiful. Nature took billions of years to craft it, and this disease snatched it away in an instant, supplanting it with something monstrous… though admittedly physically superior.

They were almost to the elevator, which nearly blinded her after so many minutes in crushing blackness. She had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing with joy, and her heart did somersaults. Something yanked her attention away, though.

A separate chamber was right beside the threshold – the autopsy room. A cadaver lay sprawled on the operating table, warded against infection by thick glass. Her eyes flitted across it before snapping back.

_It can't be, _she thought. But it was.

Captain Mathius lay dead on the table with one of his eyes gouged out. Must have been within the past couple hours, considering the cadaver was still in a state of primary flaccidity. The others looked, as well, all recoiling from the sight; even Lexine and McNeill, who were on the Aegis VII colony well before the Ishimura arrived, were aware of him. Only Curtis remained stoic, peering through his helmet without moving a muscle.

They were doomed even more than she previously believed if madness consumed the Bridge. However, she wasn't scared. She was angry.

Curtis knew about this! He'd lied about the Captain being OK! He took her trust – all their trusts, really – and broken it. She couldn't even bring herself to glare at him, instead turning away. From the corner of her eye, she saw him hang his head in shame.

But then she saw something else.

A bulky shape stirred in the corner ahead, sitting in a pool of blackness just outside the light. It rose, burbling, and plodded towards them. Again, she was convinced they'd all die, only she didn't feel so bad about it this time. The sting of Curtis' betrayal hadn't yet subsided (or actually sunken in at all), and it somehow captured her attention more than impending doom the second the thing saw them.

As it shambled into the light, though, she realized that wasn't a problem. Its eyes were gone… as was the entire head. _Mercer._

Those severed heads in his office came from the morgue. This was the morgue. The infection only reached here after he'd decapitated the corpses – maybe he spread it himself. The only reason they hadn't already been noticed was because of this sensory handicap, though, so perhaps she should have been grateful. It was hard to be, however, as the headless monstrosity staggered toward them, looking unlike anything Curtis described.

Though it possessed the same bony scythes as the Hunter and Slashers, these were even larger: a claymore compared with cleavers. Instead of the "normal" necrotic brown or flayed pink, it possessed sickly green flesh. Its most notable characteristic, however, was the enormous bulge in the abdomen – a veiny, pulsating abscess with something moving inside.

Ever closer it walked. It was mere feet from the group now and stumbling closer. Black blood spouted from the severed esophagus with each step, making Lexine retch. It'd be OK, though; the monster would pass by as long as it continued straight on and nobody made much noise.

_Almost looks like it's… pregnant._

Pregnant. That word exploded in her brain, and her eyes shot wide open. That and the lacerations on what remained of the neck made this fiend's former identity clear as day: Ms. Arnold-Fernandez. And Gabe realized it, too. He may have been a tough man, but the animate corpse of a suicide victim waddling mere feet away from him, compounded with all the other horrors he'd seen, was too much.

He screamed.

Even without ears, the creature stopped and turned. Perhaps it sensed vibrations in the air. McNeill had his hands over Weller's mouth, but it was too late. A cacophony of inarticulate bellows cascaded out of the darkness. A headless horde was on its way.

"Run!" someone shouted. Didn't matter who; everyone was onboard with that plan in half a second.

They charged past the bloated monster as it randomly slashed at thin air, but it still tailed them, as did the other decapitated shapes emerging from the shadows. Nicole slammed her hand onto the elevator's hologram, screaming at it to open. She couldn't die. Not before telling Isaac how much she loved him.

The roars of the dead overshadowed the sound of the lift slowly grinding its way down. Until then… their backs pressed against the wall. Weapons out. It was like those cheesy action vids she indulged in from time to time. But they weren't USM marine commandos, and these monsters were real. Nevertheless, she drew her weapon as dozens of Necromorphs drew nearer.

Gabe largely regained his composure, though his voice still wavered as he shouted, "McNeill and Murdoch! 10 o'clock! Mason and Brennan! 12 o'clock!" She fired one of her precious bullets, taking Curtis' aiming advice despite her anger. Sure enough, the Slasher's arm fell off, becoming a steaming stump, and its legs followed a moment later. The morgue came "alive" with muzzle flashes and plasmatic light. The strobe effect revealed ever more Necromorphs. They seemed to spew from the floor, pressing ever closer.

Seconds passed. Bodies fell. Necromorphs clambered over the mounds. She no longer heard Gabe over the deafening mosaic of shrieks, crunches and gunfire. All she did was shoot and shoot until there was nothing left in her gun, as did they all. But by then, their salvation arrived.

"Everyone in!"

Five survivors threw themselves into the lift while Gabe beat back the horde with his Pulse Rifle until he, too, ran out of bullets. That was his cue to bail, and he leapt in after them. It almost worked out perfectly. Almost.

The doors slowly ground shut as the Necromorphs crashed closer. It made her smirk; the blinded creatures tore_ each other _apart out of anger or confusion. One, however, made it through the morass of flesh, and it charged inside at the last possible moment – the ever-tenacious corpse of Arnold-Fernandez.

Gabe yelled again as the mutated cadaver raised its massive blades. Nicole would watch her friend die, and she was powerless to stop it. The elevator, however, could.

It jolted up, and the quick movement left the creature's fat, stubby legs reeling. It collapsed like a falling tree onto Gabe. "Fuck!"

His screams were drowned out by the quivering mass of necrotic flesh on top of him. The others looked at each other for a moment, all absolutely terrified. However, unlike before, there was no hesitation. She knew what they needed to do. They were all out of bullets. Even if they weren't, using them in a space where they barely had room to breathe would be idiotic. Therefore, they used their hands and feet.

Her higher faculties departed as she clawed at its flesh with dirtied fingernails. She became the exact opposite of a precise surgeon – an animal rending its prey. The rational part of her brain was overridden by something primal and dark; she heard herself _growl. _The flesh was tough and supple, but she pressed on as the others joined in. Well, not Eckhardt, but he was a flabby middle-aged man, so she understood his hesitation.

The monster's burbles flooded the lift as Lexine and McNeill pulled off one of its legs, the rotten sinew snapping as it stretched. Meanwhile, Curtis put her advice about his grav-boots to good use. He raised one foot above the Necromorph's twitching blade-arm, and the graviton-emitting pad on the sole activated. It slammed down with superhuman strength, turning bone to pulp. The damage was too much, and the thing gave a final moan before falling silent.

_Gabe… _Her heart stopped for a moment as the re-deceased mound of flesh stilled. Then it began to wriggle, and she released a sigh. "Thank God you're OK."

Wait… it wasn't just Gabe who moved. The abomination's back wriggled, too, almost like something burrowed out of –

She realized what happened just as this new Necromorph emerged, tearing its way through the host's flesh. It was… she could barely _look _at it.

Bad as it was, she hadn't hated this virus before. She didn't even hate the Marker for doing this if it was a mere machine. Her antipathy toward Mercer for attempting to control it was far stronger. Infections merely did what they'd evolved to do – hating them made no more sense than hating a thunderstorm. But after seeing what the disease did to an unborn child, every cell in her body burned with contempt.

Before anyone could tackle it, though, it shrieked and whipped three pronged tentacles of intestine out of its back. A blur flew off of each, and agony seared her gut. Glancing down, she saw a small bolt of malignant bone embedded in her side. "Nicole!" Lexine shouted, tripping over the big Necromorph to get over to her. The pain was actually a boon, snapping her from a haze of exhaustion in a way not even mortal danger could.

Curtis lunged at the corrupted baby, and it gladly reciprocated. The two grappled in the corner; the Necromorph wrapped its limbs around him like a python while he bashed it against the wall. McNeill helped Gabe, who was covered in several different fluids, out from beneath the fleshy mass. Eckhardt stayed back and shouted encouragement to both groups (again, acceptable in his case). Lexine helped to pulled out the barbed blade; she may not have had medical knowledge, but her being a Class 2 Surveyor meant she knew how to drive in and remove telemetry spikes, those electronic poles that measured tectonic activity.

She looked down and shuddered at the quill with gritted teeth; a couple inches to the right and it would have gone straight through her heart. Lexine tried to say something, but it was drowned out by the cries of a dead baby and splatting sounds as Curtis thrashed it against steel. Now fully emerged, Gabe threw his Pulse Rifle aside and shuffled over before grabbing one of the tendrils and ripping it off. A few bashes later and the infant stopped moving.

Curtis dropped the flaccid body and slumped over. What he'd been forced to do should have evoked pity. However, it did little to dent her disappointment. The hypocrisy wasn't lost on her – she'd also lied to her patients as of late – yet this felt so much more personal. It didn't make sense… but nothing did anymore. Regardless, she waited a few moments for him to collect himself.

…

Curtis thought he could handle a tongue lashing. He'd just _punched _a Necromorph to death (that's what he told himself. Far better than saying he'd murdered a baby). Should have been the epitome of toughness, but he quivered in fear as Nicole began giving him Hell.

He should have been honest and treated them like adults instead of lying to their faces and pretending everything would be all right. That was the message, but his mind blocked out the exact words, not that he needed to hear them to know his actions were wrong.

The others didn't look so angry (though some of their attention was on Gabe, who still retched occasionally), but they probably felt the same way.

And they were correct. Guilt gnawed away at his insides – some friend he'd been. But anger followed right behind. They were so busy focusing on a little white lie that they didn't notice who got them into this shit to begin with! Who cared about a fib when someone's stomach nearly killed them?!

"Why don't you blame Weller?!" he exclaimed, jabbing a finger at the man, who shakily wiped the blood, pus, vomit and God-knew what else off himself.

"Fuck you, Mason!" he shot back. "You have no idea what I've been through!"

"I know you almost got us all killed!" He didn't care if this was tacky – he almost died because Gabe couldn't keep a scream down for five more seconds! "You're a soldier! What kind of warrior screams when he's afraid?! You're supposed to be above that!" They were moments away from throttling each other.

"How about both of you calm the Hell down," McNeill said. "Gabe, Curtis had good intentions even if his actions were wrong. And Curtis, I've known Gabe for a long time. Those rope marks on the monster's neck… you have no right to ask why they scare him."

Oh. His rage was transmuted into even more guilt. His gaze fell, and he retracted his helmet in a sign of surrender. "Fine. I'm sorry."

Gabe stared for a moment, and Curtis saw his free hand morph into a fist. He wouldn't defend himself if the man wanted to get in a lick or two – he deserved them. However, it relaxed, and instead he said, "It's fine."

With the chaos finally subsided, he had a chance to _breathe. _The cramped space smelled awful, he realized, but he'd become so accustomed to the distinct Necromorph odor – a concoction of rotten flesh, sulfur, and sometimes preservative chemicals – that it hardly computed anymore. He remembered vomiting the first time it inundated his nostrils.

"Uh, the door's open," Lexine said.

_Huh? _He glanced to his left, and sure enough, a hallway loomed. Who knew how long it beckoned to them while life and death dueled. Fortunately, this area seemed to be free of Necromorphs for the moment; it was free of damage or blood and any strays would have rushed to attack earlier.

"Yeah. We're close to the ER. Stay close." The others went ahead, and as expected, Nicole turned to him. "We're not done with this. I'll put it aside for now, but you've betrayed my trust." He didn't think his pride could be more dented until she added, "And I know you're still checking me out. And Lexine."

Well, it was the truth. And the truth hurt like a ton of ore being dropped on him.

"I – I'm sorry. I'm trying to stop." That, at least, was the truth, too. "It's just hard quitting something I've done for years."

"I know, and I've dealt with much worse. Eckhardt's not even trying to hide it." Yeah, he imagined a relatively young, cute blonde doctor would get a lot of unwanted attention. "Just stay focused."

"I will," he replied, hoping he could stay true to his word.

With that, they moved out, joining up with the rest of the group. Wasn't too much longer until they reached a door conspicuously marked **"ER", **so that didn't leave much to the imagination. Unfortunately, it was locked down like so many other doors in a futile attempt to keep the plague from spreading. Try as they might, neither Eckhardt nor Nicole could get their clearance to access it.

"Well?" Eckhardt asked, "What are we going to do?"

Nicole pinched the bridge of her nose before answering, "I'll knock."

That she did, rapping on the door and saying, "Perry? You there? It's Dr. Brennan." Right, Curtis vaguely remembered her omnipresent assistant. Nice guy.

"You're not Nicole!" a muffled voice shouted back. "You're a monster trying to trick me! I won't let you in!" Everyone turned to her, and she both smirked and scowled; he had no reason to believe they were anything more.

"Perry, we met while working on a Merchant Marine ship patrolling Borealis. We hit it off right away and spent way too much time watching vids and eating ice cream. We've stayed together ever since." The door immediately flew open.

Perry's eyes were red. Not just bloodshot – the entire sclera had turned crimson. "Jesus, how long has it been since you slept." He shrugged.

"Coming up on 24 hours, I think. Coffee and stimulants can only do so much, though." Sighing, he gave Nicole a hug and beckoned them inside. For a moment, Curtis felt safe.


	9. Massacre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Massacre". That should give you a pretty good idea of what kind of chapter this is. It's where things get real – I've considered the story up until now to be almost an extended introduction, going through pre-Outbreak events as well as the plots of ancillary Dead Space material. Notably, I'm skipping some stuff from Extraction (the levels in the sewer and Hydroponics) because they add little and are only there to pad out the game… maybe I'm diverging more from canon than I thought. That's only going to continue in the future.
> 
> Still no Stalker. She shows up next time, I absolutely promise, as does the cover art! That's very close to being done, and it looks great, but I'll wait until the next update to put it on DeviantArt.
> 
> Thanks to CRIMSON AN'XILEEL, ANCIENTOFDAYZ, BLAUORANGE and DERPYSAUCE for reviewing!

**4 Hours Post-Outbreak**

Curtis sat on one of the few free cots, slack jawed. People died around him.

The wretches unfortunate enough to be conscious moaned while the lucky were unconscious or kept under with tranquilizers; how much better to die peacefully in one's sleep! It didn't take a doctor to see how grievous these gashes and perforations were. More than a few lost limbs. There was nothing to be done for them now that most of the deck staff was dead and access to more equipment blocked by Necromorphs.

He glanced over at Nicole. Dirty and disheveled, her blonde hair hanging in matted clumps. She provided what piecemeal care she could despite her exhaustion and injury, which she'd just slapped some Somatic Gel on. Such dedication was to be envied.

Perry tended to the group's injuries, though they were mostly unharmed, thank goodness. Merely some cuts and scrapes.

"You have no idea how good it is to see other people again!" he said, grabbing some snacks out of his locker for them to feast on. Curtis worked up a ravenous appetite after several near-death encounters, so he snatched some Trixie's chocolates. He didn't care that these were merely artificial cocoa infused with lab-grown soy gelatin, devouring the sweets like he did as a child. They were one of the few comforts in a foster home he hated. "Other people who aren't dying," he softly added. "Haven't been able to get anyone on comms."

"Because they're down," he said through mouthfuls of sweets.

"Not anymore. Ship-wide ones popped back up a few minutes ago… too late to help anyone."

Wait, really?! A warm chill coaxed his spine. This changed everything… did it? _No. _The comfort faded, leaving him even colder than before. Would have been useful a few hours ago when survivors could have rallied, but not now. Things were too far gone. _Did Temple fix it?_

No, the RelayNet would have been first. More likely was that the Marker ceased its interference because, again, it hardly mattered that the few people still alive could communicate. It at least allowed him to do superfluous shit like listen to music or stream vids from the Ishimura's databanks.

"What happened here?" Nicole asked as she stalked back, wiping her hands on a soiled towel.

"Those monsters everyone babbled about were real… but you already know that." He eyed them all, making Curtis appreciate how filthy everyone was. Flecks of gore clung to his outfit in spite of attempts to brush them away. "They came here, and…" Tears leaked down his face, and he turned away. "And I had to seal the doors. I heard our coworkers and patients being slaughtered as they begged me to let them in. I – I _killed _them!"

Tears turned to sobs even as he tried to suppress them for the sake of his patients.

Curtis scanned the faces of those around him. Their reactions ranged from shock (Lexine) to anger (Gabe), to, surprisingly enough, acceptance – from Nicole.

"I would've done the same," she said, gently placing a hand on the wailing man's shoulder to comfort him.

"Are you serious?" Gabe blurted, looking as disgusted as he had when helping him with the Necromorph fetus. "The Dr. Brennan I know and worked with would never approve of something like that."

"You don't knowDr. Brennan," she huffed before turning to Perry. "I'm sorry you had to do that, but if you didn't, you'd be dead. You can't save them all." Those words jangled around Curtis' hollow head. More likely was that they couldn't save _anyone. _Regardless, he saw both their points; doctors and soldiers both needed to make tough decisions about life and death that he didn't bear the burden of.

Gabe didn't like that, though. His eyes narrowed as he spat, "Who are you to play God?" before storming off.

Nathan sighed. "Gabe's one of those 'nobody gets left behind' guys. I'll try to calm him down." Then he walked away to where Weller stood, fuming.

"So…" Eckhardt began after a few moments of relative quiet, "what do we do now?"

Question of the hour. Nicole began talking to Perry about various routes they could take to the Tram Station and the like. The damned still moaned. Curtis, too, stood up and left. He needed to be alone.

_Alone. I used to hate being alone. _Now he needed to be. Group survival had its perks, but as he'd just learned, it came with severe drawbacks. That thing with Nicole… he lied to her. Deceiving his friend in a normal situation was bad, but at the end of the world when they had only each other to rely on? It broke his heart that he acted so selfishly. It was a strange (if not pathetic) detail to dwell on, but who could hetrust if others couldn't trust him?

He found himself a distant corner with a few critical patients lying on excrement-stained cots. Not private, but it was the closest he could get. His thoughts drifted back to a week prior. This was the room he'd met Nicole in, where she patched him up after dumbass behavior. It went from spotless white and chrome to a fetid stockyard… but that applied to the Ishimura in general. It offended him as a miner that such a historic, incredible ship had been twisted into a nightmare.

Another muscle popped in his neck as he shook his head, evoking a groan and igniting pain down his spine. His body could only withstand the strain of this RIG for a few more hours before he simply collapsed. That was OK; he was dead anyway if this whole "find a shuttle" plan didn't pan out, which it most probably wouldn't.

_There's no one else around to help by now. _If it turned out to be a bust, he'd strip out of the metal suit and find a Necromorph to kill him. That'd be better than hiding in a supply closet and starving to death.

The air vent above him rattled as it belched frigid air across his face. He thought nothing of it at first – pretty normal behavior. But the shaking became progressively louder, intermingling with scratches and low growls.

"No," he whispered, feeling his eyes open so much they ached. "Nonono!" They'd been in the ER for mere minutes! This had to happen eventually, but not now! He gritted his teeth and willed the sounds to stop.

They continued. He tried harder, and it felt like he was forcing out the biggest crap of his life. Murmurs spread among his friends as they took notice.

Then the sounds ended as quickly as they began. Slowly, he cracked open his eyes. His friends (it felt so strange to use that term for people he'd known for a couple of hours, but it felt like lifetimes) craned their necks upward, gawking at the ceiling. Seconds passed, and he very slowly released a breath. Not Lexine, though; her eyes remained glued to the vents, and she mouthed, "They're here."

Finally averting his gaze, Perry said, "I think we're – "

The nearest grate to the man exploded open, and a Slasher barreled out.

…

Nicole did nothing.

There was nothing to be done – nothing but watch in slow motion as a monster bore down on her best friend. Everyone was out of ammunition, and they couldn't reach the spot in time.

_People die, _she told herself, repeating the mantra she used whenever presented with a terminal patient. That phrase resounded through her head hundreds of times that day alone… but it was different when being used on a man she practically considered family. "Everyone dies," she whispered, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. And indeed, he did.

With the flash of a blade, Perry's head fell from his shoulders.

She screamed. The monster roared. Perry's body spasmed as the last of his life departed. More Necromorphs dropped from ceiling vents, splatting on the floor before peeling themselves off and eviscerating helpless patients.

"No! Stop it!" she screamed from despair. "Stop killing everyone!"

Her pleas were ignored. None of these creatures possessed the spark of empathy or even sapience that Harris' corpse did, so they continued to disembowel with abandon. A few invalids were strong enough to crawl away, but these were quickly picked off by bloodthirsty monsters. Dozens of flatlines erupted, leaving her deafened, unable to hear the sound of her own screams.

She scarcely comprehended anything as her friends dragged her through what could generously be called a "warzone"; like animals, it seemed Necromorphs instinctively targeted the weak. _Animals. _It was far too benign a description. Not for them, though – for her, using her own patients as decoys to save herself.

Was this how Perry felt? Of course she was accustomed to prioritizing cases during triage. That was utilitarian. This was barbarism masquerading as such. Gabe took it much worse, actively fighting McNeill, Lexine and Eckhardt, kicking and screaming as they hauled him away. For all his tough talk of "pulling your own weight," he needed to help these people.

The lights went out by the time they reached the door; one of the Necromorphs cut the power like always. A red, bloody world engulfed her, and the monsters finished up with the last of their prey. Infectors swooped down from on high, plunging their proboscides into corpses that boiled and mutated before her bleary eyes. With no more easy pickings…

A hundred glassy, reflective eyes flew to the little group, and their owners' toothy maws lengthened in something akin to hunger. The Leapers were especially bad with their snake-like, unhinged jaws. They ran, no command necessary.

Dozens of Necromorphs swelled after them down the hall, forming a flash flood as they travelled, sweeping up corpses and debris in the surge.

This was Hell. She used to not believe in such a place; it was a superstitious fantasy meant to keep people in line during times of old. But fires burned in corners. The dead slayed the living, converting them into their ranks. New horrors lurked around every corner. The Ishimura became Hades incarnate. Convergence came, consuming humanity and replacing it with a stronger race with one soul and one purpose.

She applauded the Unis. They were right about everything.

The gauntlet lasted just short of forever. Leaping over patches of Corruption and dodging holes in the floor would have made it feel like a video game were it not for sheer terror coursing through her veins. Her lungs and legs burned, yet the Necromorphs drew closer every instant. Running wasn't a cognizant choice; it happened regardless. In fact, her subconscious must have been what guided her toward the trolley, for she only recognized the adjacent Security Station when it was feet away!

"Close the door!" someone yelled once they were through.

_No, I'll totally let them kill us all! _Nicole hammered away at buttons, toiling to seal the damn thing. May have been her deck, but this was an engineer's job!

The swarm advanced. It was maybe a hundred feet away. Her friends stood back with empty weapons in hand. There were few places to run. Sweat greased her palms as she tapped buttons both on the door panel and her RIG's holo-screen. _I already did this today!_

Fifty feet. They literally trampled each other. Some seemed to have pack instincts while others couldn't care less about their fellow undead. Perhaps it depended on the former person's temperament or the conditions they were resurrected – "Not important!" she yelled to herself.

Even nearer now. Her mind wouldn't let her estimate the distance. _Almost there._

From the corner of her eye, she saw Curtis flipping off the monsters in one final petty act of defiance. Would have made her guffaw if they weren't about to die. _Almost there._

"Close it, you idiot!" Eckhardt shouted.

"Not helping!" Her fingers flew faster than she could see them. "Work!"

The doors battered down at the last possible moment, knocking her to the ground with their thunderous might. Fate _really _liked giving them narrow escapes. The rumbling continued as the Necromorph horde, unable to halt its momentum, slammed into the metal like a flock of birds flying into a window.

"Hah!" Curtis shouted, fist-pumping the air. "I love it when they do that!"

They'd made it. All of them collapsed as soon as she said that this area possessed a different ventilation system – they couldn't be followed. This brought Nicole no comfort. Curled up into a little ball, all she could do was silently watch her friend's death play again and again in her mind. Part of her wanted to join him… but that wasn't to be, at least not for a little while longer. She needed to do what she could to atone.

The others shared her lack of enthusiasm once free from adrenaline's clutches. Even the pounding, gibbering monsters on the other side failed to evoke a response. Slowly, even that faded as they grew bored and wandered off. All was silence for a single moment.

Then a strange chiming started. Took her a moment to recognize it as a simple dial tone and not a new monster or something disastrous. Right, Perry mentioned that comms were up now! All eyes were on Curtis, whose holo-projector emanated a screen with a familiar name on it – Samuel Irons.

Gabe's eyes went wide. Even those who didn't know the name sensed its weight; only someone important would bother calling up another person by this point. Nicole wasn't sure what to expect, but the gnawing in her chest portended bad things. "Are you going to answer it?" she asked, voice fluttering. He looked at her through the helmet before retracting it and nodding.

…

Curtis' finger trembled as he moved to accept the call. Much as he wanted to convince himself that the message would be something good – Sam had actually saved people and wanted to meet up somewhere – he suspected that this would be the last time he'd hear from his friend. He would have ignored the call were it not for that.

A pale Sam greeted him in the choppy video feed a moment later; RIG-Link didn't convey color well, but he looked blanched. Still, maybe he was OK!

"Sam! Can you hear me?" He nodded, gritting his teeth as he did.

"Yes. It's good to see you're still in one piece. As for me…" He rotated the camera down his body, and Curtis' heart stopped when it got to his legs… what remained of them, at least. They ended at the knees, and two streaks of blood flowed off into the dark. "I'm not so fortunate. I helped Vincent rescue some people, though, so it's not all bad. Plus I got to talk to you one last time." Curtis begged to fucking differ. His best friend would die.

"Where are you, Irons?" Gabe asked, leaning in. "We're not leaving you here. We have an escape plan and can send someone to get you!"

He hacked up some blood before replying, "I'm… not afraid to die. Trying not to be, anyway. And I don't think I'm getting out of here. With all the blood in the air, these things will find me soon." Both Curtis and Gabe wanted to argue, yet they also knew he spoke the truth. There was nothing they could do for him – he was gone.

"Please don't go," Curtis whispered. If only sheer willpower could make the man stop bleeding.

"There's nothing else for me. My parents are dead, no children. Dying with no responsibilities is wonderful." Tears streamed down his cheeks as he thought back to Kyne, who'd said the same thing. "Now I just need to rest…" He toppled back again the wall as a final hoary gasp exuded from his lips.

The flatline came. The feed went dead.

Just like him.

Curtis fell to his knees. No tears came, though. More than sad, he was just… broken. He stayed that way for a long time with his vision drifting out of focus. It was brought back by something wrapped around him. He struggled at first, thinking another Necromorph tried to strangle him. However, he quickly realized the real source.

Nicole hugged him.

He gladly reciprocated, weeping into his friend's shoulder. Didn't even deserve to call her that between his creepy stares and the fact he lied to her. He wouldn't have given her up for anything. His other friends looked on, yet nothing dampened the moment.

"I'm sorry, but you need to go," she whispered.

"You aren't coming?" He should have expected it. Why would she want to come with him?

"It's not because of you," she sighed. "While we're on the subject of honesty… it's my fault the escape shuttles launched. I wasn't careful. Mercer used my authority to get into ship systems. There's still people here who need my help, and damn it, I'm going to help them."

_Oh. _She hid her face, unable to so much as look at him with the truth revealed. The patch of darkness she knelt in gave the impression of a dark aura of guilt radiating from her. He desperately wanted to tell her that she was guiltless… but the ghosts of those he felt responsible for letting die still haunted him. How much worse for her? Instead, he asked, "W-what about your boyfriend?"

"His name's Isaac. Isaac Clarke. If you ever meet him… tell him I love him and that I'm sorry."

**4 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Nobody spoke on the jaunt to the Flight Deck. Their faces said enough; gaunt and sallow with downturned mouths. Between sadness, fear and exhaustion, they grew less human by the hour. They now more closely resembled shades or phantoms – beings of spirit without flesh that were the polar opposite of Necromorphs. He might have found that poetic if he was more philosophically inclined, especially given that both kinds were dead.

For most of them, yet another death was merely an unpleasant experience. For him and Gabe, however, it was much worse.

He'd just lost his best friend – two, if he counted Nicole and her choice to stay behind.

How was he supposed to handle that?! He'd never had _any _real friends before, and Sam was more than that – a mentor who taught him to embrace Unitology. _What a vile religion. _Blood dripped down his chin from some cut or perhaps biting his lip too hard. Hard to believe he used to be naïve enough to respect and even want to join the faith. Now his name was cursed to be counted among those of zealots and murderers – Mathius, Mercer, those saboteurs.

He pulled the Marker necklace from his pocket, running his gloved fingers over the black stone. So what if there were good ones like Sam and maybe Kyne? Didn't change what had been done.

His hand wrapped around the miniature likeness of their evil deity, which turned out to be real. It spoke to him and asked him to "help". He slowly squeezed, feeling the rock crumble like bread with the RIG's strength. Despite everything, it made him crack some semblance of a smile. He would break this in half, and his faith with it.

"He gave that to you, didn't he?"

Gabe took notice, staring at him from across the car as it screeched and jostled along. Curtis didn't look up, merely nodding as stone splintered in his palm.

"Is that really what you want to do? I don't like Unitology, either, but you're making a mistake." His temper flared. How dare Weller tell him what he did or didn't want?! It crunched and crackled, and Eckhardt suddenly looked concerned. "It's all you have to remember him by."

He was right. There were no photos or mementos. This was it.

Sighing, he unclenched his fist, which revealed a fragmented stone that somehow clung together. Still pissed him off, but he couldn't let it go. Not yet. He stuffed it back in his pocket and turned his attention elsewhere, mostly on whether or not they'd actually reach their destination.

The gondola rattled along like never before, grinding and shaking and making him wish it had seatbelts. He had to admire the machine's persistence; it spent the last several hours severely over capacity and running over Necromorphs yet kept chugging along. Still, it'd fail sooner or later, and that'd be the end of convenient transportation. The car ground to a halt, throwing Curtis out of his seat.

"N-now arrrrrrrrriving at the F-flight Deckkk_kkkkk_," the dying shipboard AI sputtered before crackling out. They stepped ashore, surveying the surroundings for danger, but nothing appeared out of place. Looked almost… normal. Curtis shuddered; people were murdered here only a couple hours prior during his little trip with Dr. Kyne, but nothing remained of them. They were converted into more monsters or perhaps assimilated into the spreading Corruption. The only signs of struggle were a few scorch marks on the floor from his Line Gun.

Gabe walked to the front of the pack and presented his plan. "There were 50 escape shuttles until the mad scientist launched them empty. Like Eckhardt said, though, there may have been a few that are offline for maintenance or other reasons. We'll try to find one and escape. If there aren't any…" His eyes drifted towards the floor. "Well, we'll talk about it if it comes to that."

Shaking his head, he continued, "McNeill, Murdoch – you scout bays 1 through 25. Mason, Eckhardt and I will take the rest. Anybody finds anything, contact the other group." As per usual, Eckhardt grimaced at the thought of separating from Lexine but didn't dare object. "Let's move." It took a few minutes to reach the hangars, but they fortunately didn't run into any trouble. Even the lighting was all right. That's when they split.

"Why me?" Eckhardt mumbled as his group traipsed down its own hallway.

"Two reasons. First, I didn't want to split up the lovebirds. Second, you're a creepy guy. You don't hide your rubbernecking very well."

The man looked flabbergasted to have been caught. "I – I have no idea what you're talking about! Lexine is like a daughter to me!"

"Look," Curtis added, only half joking, "there's nothing wrong with older folks wanting sex. I'm sure you're a rich man, being an executive and all; there's gotta be _someone _out there. This just isn't the time." The freckled veins in Eckhardt's temples flared.

Bay 26 was empty. So was 27. 28. 29. _Keep going, _he told himself. _There's plenty more. _Maybe too many.

The world shifted as they pushed deeper down the seemingly endless hall. Lights dimmed. Ambient noises softened. The Corruption bloomed from vents and orifices. Something awful approached; fear's knife twisted in his gut. Still, no Necromorphs yet.

The numbers ticked by like minutes – 34, 35, 36. Nothing but disappointment. No word from Nathan and Lexine, either. _We're going to die here, _he thought as he gripped the Line Gun like a vice. It was a good plan, but plans meant little.

The dark part of his mind spoke again after its dormancy, whispering little terrors.

_Kill them. You'll die anyway._

This was just like when he went to help fix the engine; he didn't snap, but Henderson did. Maybe it was his turn now… or one of theirs. His eyes were glued to their hands, watching their fingers hypnotically twitch and dance. Paranoia reigned over the kingdoms of his fractured psyche; were these thoughts even his own, or did the Marker implant them?

Only the numbers remained concrete. 41, 42, 43. The terror in his gut mellowed out into something resembling acceptance. Eckhardt trembled, his eyes flying and teeth chattering. Gabe just looked tired. Interesting how they all handled the situation in different ways.

44, 45, 46. Corruption drowned the entire floor, and Curtis nearly vomited as ankle-deep mire tried to consume him. The end was in sight now – a dead end that flew towards them despite their slowness. Seemed appropriate. _You don't deserve to survive. _He didn't argue with the Shadow Man. It might convince him it was right.

"There's nothing here!" Eckhardt suddenly screamed, dropping to his knees in the slime. It crept up his arms, and Gabe dragged the man's quivering form along. "We're going to bloody die!"

"And you'll be the first to if you don't shut up," he growled. Curtis shivered; he couldn't tell if the man was serious. The carnivorous glint in his eye divulged something dark. God, they needed to get out!

47.

Identical to all the others besides the number embossed on iron. Curtis approached and put his hand on the door, fully expecting another empty room full of failure.

The shuttle confused him at first.

It must have been a particularly cruel hallucination. The sleek spaceship placidly parked mere meters away made no sense in this hellscape. He rubbed his eyes, yet it remained. The others did the same; he wasn't the only one who witnessed this. "D-do you see what I see?" he whispered, fearing that any noise would scare the transport off or make it explode.

Eckardt collapsed in awe and sweet relief, bowing to the craft like an idol. Curtis wanted to do the same – this was more worthy of worship than the Marker. Gabe spun Nathan an audio log, which was quickly picked up.

"McNeill, we found one," he spoke, unable to hide sheer joy behind the gritty veneer. "We actually found a shuttle. It's in Bay 47; get here on the double while we prep for launch."

"Oh, thank God." His elation was palpable even through radio static. "Everything on this end is gone or wrecked. Do you hear that, Lex? We're going to make it!"

"I can hardly believe it, Nate!" she said in the background before the transmission cut off.

_Aww. _They called each other pet names now. Knowing that romance blossomed in such circumstances warmed his throbbing heart. _That _was real love, not the tawdry one-night stands he had at parties or prostitutes he solicited. Even during the most intimate action known to humanity, he still felt utterly alone. _I'm going to try dating if – when – I get back._

The shuttle looked fine to his untrained eyes; any maintenance done on it seemed pretty minor, maybe some retrofits. They wouldn't have to replace anything serious. Still, it was held in place by giant industrial clamps, which they'd have to unlock. Should be able to do that via the main console…

As Gabe opened a door to a vestibule containing the launching computers, though, he saw that might not easy. _Damn! _Most were smashed to bits, and the ones that worked flickered and sputtered like dying flames. Of course this couldn't be simple. _Should have noticed that through the windows._

Curtis absentmindedly leaned against one of the consoles, and the next thing he knew he was on the ground, paralyzed with a leaden blanket. His mind worked, though, and it recognized his mistake. _I got electrocuted! _Might have killed him were it not for the insulated RIG. He kept getting lucky, but how much longer until that luck ran out?

"OK, lesson learned," Gabe said as he pushed himself up, heaving. "Don't touch anything broken."

The terminal that released the vices may have been obliterated, yet a couple still worked. There must have been some alternate solution. His eyes wandered across smashed electronics, trying to find one. He felt rather smug when they landed on a station that controlled the room's gravity.

"If we turn off the gravity panels, we can fly up and release the clamps by hand."

"Good thinking, Mason," Gabe replied with a pat on the back, though he barely felt it through the armor. "But, uh, how do we do that?" Curtis simply strode over some mangled wires and punched in a few commands with uncharacteristically nimble fingers. The omnipresent hum of engines and machinery, already dampened from the ship's damage, shrank even more as another system shut down.

"Manipulating gravity is part of a miner's job. Now let's go home."

"Agreed. Eckhardt, stay here and wait for McNeill and Murdoch while we release the clamps." None of them had any objections to this arrangement.

Curtis and Gabe went back to the threshold, and the former stuck an arm over it. Sure enough, it hovered in place as random pieces of debris also began to drift. This'd take a while. Stealing one last look at each other, they jumped into the void.

…

Nicole sat practically hypnotized. Oscillations and lines crisscrossed the holo-screen unlike anything she'd ever seen. There didn't seem to be a pattern at first, but the more she looked and the deeper she delved, the more certain she became that the squiggles meant something.

There were a hundred things more important than probing Lexine's old brain scans she could have done (foremost among them sending that final message to Isaac), this behavior was unknown to science. She'd checked the medical records and found nothing like the results before her. A medical breakthrough was just slightly more important.

Another wave of fear washed over her, bringing the whispers and roars with it. She would have called it "psychic" if she believed in such a thing… which she probably _should _have, given the space zombies and all. The hallucinations resurged since the group left; she needed to get her business in order before she lost her mind. _Keep it together, _she thought, pulling through the haze and focusing again on the brainwaves. They made her feel better.

Now that she had time to look, a million more oddities leapt out at her, mostly regarding Lexine's brain chemistry. The cortex, thalamus and basal nuclei worked as hard as those of 20 regular people – should have been crippling, yet she acted fine. The levels of neurotransmitters like acetylcholine matched. Her sensory neurons and axons were somehow _mutated, _hypothetically allowing her to detect things that most people couldn't. _Extrasensory perception? _None of this made any sense.

It all returned to the brainwaves, which she watched again and again as they spiked, dipped and inverted. Almost looked familiar…

A crackling came across her RIG-Link, making her yelp and fall backwards.

"_Thhhh… _…Sick Bay 2, broadcasting wide… …ear us? We're going to… …ed you."

Holy shit. More survivors were holed up in Sick Bay 2! That wasn't far! Nicole listened carefully, trying to tune out "Isaac's" whispers. Was this real or another hallucination? It sounded genuine… She took another glance at the computer. This was the perfect time to record it.

Gritting her teeth, she pushed away from the station and stood up. Those people would die without her! Sure, they'd die _with _her, as well, but she could ease their suffering before the end! The pain was at least partially her fault, with her unwittingly letting Mercer launch the escape shuttles – she needed to try and atone somehow.

She snatched the laser from the ground beside her, loading up a few more cartridges of precious plasma before walking over to the door opposite the one she entered through. The familiar stench of death enveloped her as it opened; who knew what waited beyond?

_Time to find out._

She sprinted in before Isaac could convince her not to.

…

"That should… do it." Curtis gasped for air. The locks weren't supposed to be manually opened; it took him and Gabe (both strong people, plus the power of his RIG) several minutes to pry them ajar. His vision sloshed around as the weightless blood in his brain pulsed. The least he deserved was the good old 9.81 meters per second squared holding him down.

He and Gabe jumped down past the shuttle, which now looked ready to go! All they needed to do was wait for the others to get down here, and they were off! Should have elated him… and it did, but not as much as he thought. He'd lost so much – his innocence, his mind, his friends. _And I'll never find out what happened to Nicole._

That would haunt him forever, just as much as the Necromorphs. He was such a shitty "friend" – checking her out, lying to her, and so on. Was she even alive now? He lacked the strength to call up and ask, afraid of what he might find.

They leapt through the spiraling room and landed right in front of the antechamber where Eckhardt was. "McNeill, Murdoch, we're ready to launch down here! Where the Hell are you?"

"We're coming." The voice was less crackly this time around, allowing Curtis to pick up heavy breathing. "This gunk is a bitch to get through. Haven't bumped into any monsters, though, so we'll be there soon."

"I hope so," Gabe muttered as he hung up.

They strode towards the doorway, which was still open. Eckhardt was talking. _To himself? Is he going crazy? _No, too structured for that. He and Gabe looked at each other, confused, before peeking around the corner.

Eckhardt stood and spoke at one of the few intact terminals. Didn't appear that he was broadcasting, for nobody responded – it likely downloaded to his own RIG. A mission report or assessment of some kind?

"I believe it is vital that Lexine undergoes further treatment on Earth. Altman be praised. End of message."

The words made Curtis' skin crawl as a thousand different thoughts burrowed into his brain. Eckhardt was a Unitologist? He wanted to kidnap Lexine? What was going on?! The Shadow Man gibbered in the back of his head, making it difficult to think straight. Gabe was a little more aware and less subtle, so he stepped forward.

"What the Hell is going on here?"

He whirled around, and his expression convinced Curtis he was up to no good. What kind of innocent recording was met with a look of abject horror when overheard? "Weller! Mason! This is confidential CEC business and none of your concern! How dare you?"

"CEC? Sounded more like the Church to me," Curtis added, thinking back to Mathius and Kyne's dialogue. "But I guess there isn't much difference."

"Neither of you are in a position to question my authority!" he raged, and the veins in his forehead again thickened. That couldn't have been healthy.

"Don't talk to me about authority!" Gabe jabbed a finger into the man's chest, and he began to shrink back – after a moment of hesitation, the former stopped the latter so he didn't step on a frayed cable. Good, his friend was still in there. The Shadow Man wasn't pleased. "We've been keeping your flabby ass alive this whole time. Now, let's hear that again…"

They stepped over to the holo-screen and replayed the video while Eckhardt sulked in the background. The orange-tinted thing flickered and hissed for a moment before popping to life.

"This is Overseer Eckhardt, codeword 'Oracle' with a message for Enigma Lange," his apricot-hued doppelganger said.

Already this was too much for Curtis to take. "Overseers" were high-ranking Unitologists, ones who paid millions of credits for special perks and privileges. Made sense that one would be assigned to a high-profile mission. _Whatever that is. _Enigmas… well, what he knew of them mostly came from shitty thriller vids. The top of the Unitologist food chain, they had an annual "Enigma Symposium" to discuss "church direction" or something like that. Probably more of a really expensive party. This "Lange" must have been important, whoever they were. _And what's "Oracle"? _The questions kept coming.

"Events on Aegis VII and the Ishimura are extraordinary. The Marker is genuine, although its effects are… disturbing. I am blessed to have survived, though some of our assets, such as Mathius, haven't been so lucky."

How much did the Church know about what the Marker did? Merely that it had strange powers or resurrected armies of the damned? How much did Mathius and other 'assets' know? Would more come to retrieve the obelisk? He heard his own blood pounding in his ears. The whole aura this douche threw off made him grit his teeth!

"Anyway, I've located the subject you were looking for – Lexine Murdoch, a surveyor. She appears _immune _to the Marker's effects, as you've predicted, and can somehow shield others near her, as well. Don't know how you knew any of this, but it was all spot-on. I'll deliver her after I've finished off her entourage."

That's when all the questions catalyzed. They weren't answered, but all fell within the same microcosm of madness. _That _was why the hallucinations went away for a time. It wasn't the group – it was _her. _Nicole mentioned that her brainwaves were abnormal. And they'd be killed to keep the secret. With this, two questions burned high above all the rest.

How in the world did Eckhardt's handler know someone like that was on the planet… and what did they plan to do with her? Taken together, it made him nauseous. That feeling evolved into abject horror when he realized something – they hadn't taken Eckhardt's gun.

"You son of a bitch," Gabe growled as they whirled around.

As expected, he stood a few feet away, scowling and pointing his Divet at them. "I'm afraid so."

_BLAM_ _ **!** _

Curtis stumbled backwards into a void. His arms dangled in front of him as he toppled, and it took moments for him to hit the floor, bouncing slightly when he did. A voice simultaneously whispered and screamed over the ringing in his ears and the bright spot burned into his retinas.

_ **DID NOT… WANT THIS.** _

The Black Marker? He'd recognize that psychic foghorn anywhere after only hearing it once. Couldn't it leave him alone in his final moments? _Go away. _Reluctantly, it did, leaving only him and the Shadow Man in his brain. That was more than enough.

"**ERROR," **the readouts and screens in his helmet read. The left side of his visor was cracked open, flooding his left eye with sickly yellow vision while the right remained blue-tinted. Eckhardt shot him in the face.

_Am I dying? _Maybe he was just about to pass out (though that'd still let him get shot again). _I was so close, too. _Pity. He normally would have been more upset… but he was so tired. All he wanted to do was sleep, but something deep inside prevented it; a fire kindled in his body, and its embers wouldn't let him rest.

He turned his head to the left, wincing at the shards of glass that dug into his cheek. It was miraculous that they'd missed his eyes; Captain Mathius' corpse flashed into his mind. The bullet would have splattered his brain were it not for the reinforced titanium and blind luck.

Gabe slumped on the floor beside him, holding his gut. Blood spurted between his fingers, and some leaked out of his mouth, as well. His eyes burned with hatred, not just for what the man did, but what he _would _do.

"I can't let your ignorance jeopardize Unitology's mission," he gloated, ready to deliver the killing blows. Honestly, Curtis wasn't angry; he wanted to be released from this living nightmare. "Yet I must thank you both for your help; couldn't have done all this without you." His grip on the weapon tightened as he aimed it squarely at Curtis' head.

"Why… Lexine?" Blood dripped from Gabe's lips as he gasped, though his flaming stare didn't diminish even slightly.

At first, Curtis thought this was a distraction – he was supposed to shoot him with the Line Gun while Eckhardt conveyed his evil plan. The guy was too smart for that, though; his gaze and gun remained trained on them. Maybe he really just wanted to know?

"She fits the profile. I didn't even realize it until we got on board, but it all adds up. Everything was like Lange said. You just made my job easier." That's when he spotted Gabe's ace in the hole. A Leaper silently approached Eckhardt from behind, looking like a viper with its unhinged mouth and fangs. The inferno within him died a little. This man may have been evil, and this may have been the only way out, but was it worth taking? He'd seen so much insanity and death over the past days – this might be the tipping point.

Henderson, Mathius and now Eckhardt… he could have saved them if he did things differently. For a moment, his eyes met the monster's, and he was surprised. He expected a fire similar to his own, but he saw only glass. Then again, that was all _it _saw. He'd called them animals before, but this was the first time it clicked for him that that was exactly what the Necromorphs were – simple beasts tamed and controlled by the Marker. They weren't hateful or evil; killing was in their nature, like alien wolves, bears, tyrannosauruses or any other extinct predator.

_I'm really going to let him die… but who am I to stand between a wolf and its prey? _That was a good enough excuse for now, but how long would it haunt him for?

"Lexine herself wouldn't understand. How could she? She's never experienced this… this _madness _that the rest of us so easily succumb to! She doesn't have to deal with her dead boyfriend or father haunting her."

Another piece snapped into place. How had he never realized it before?! The Marker hallucinations always made people see spouses, children, parents or very close friends – important people. But Curtis didn't have any of those things (even Sam, he only knew for a week), so all he saw was a gaping gash in reality where a person was supposed to be. The Shadow Man.

Maybe that's why he wasn't going _quite _as mad as some others; easier to ignore the suicidal and homicidal orders of something not even human than those of a loved one. That tidbit also made him put two and two together about Gabe. What if the ghost talking to him was somebody who killed themselves? That'd certainly heighten his disgust for suicide. The Leaper was now feet away, and it readied itself to pounce.

"You must be pretty pleased with yourself," Curtis coughed. His own voice sounded distant with all the screaming in his head. Eckhardt scoffed… but that's not who he addressed. Gabe bit his hemic lip and looked away.

"Please, Mason. You're a recent convert; you know nothing about the Church and how we operate! There are designs in motion you can't possibly – " The Leaper pounced, rocketing onto his back and ripping away with its claws and barbed tail. Flesh flew off Eckhardt's back as he screamed.

Curtis scrambled for the Line Gun, his life ring in the storm. However, the monster was quicker. No sooner than one hand grasped it was the monster on _him_. It flashed a toothy grin, which revealed an atrophied tongue, before distending its jaw and swallowing his head. _That sounded way too sexual! _"Fuck!" Again, sex… though this was the least aroused he'd ever felt.

He wailed on the creature as the stench of death pumped through holes in his helmet and strangled him. **"ERROR. ERROR. ERRRRR**_**RRRRrrrr**_**" **The holograms died as metal compressed his skull. He felt Gabe pull at the thing, but it accomplished little other than pissing it off. Desperate, he decided to try one final idea. It'd probably kill him, but he could have said that a dozen times over the past hours!

With a mighty effort, he grabbed the thing's bilious torso, stood up and ran towards the broken electronics. His legs were jelly, and serrated teeth pricked his neck. Now or never! Finally, as he was so good at doing, he ran into a wall, and the creature let go.

Impaled on frayed wires and shards of metal, it convulsed as electricity surged through its body. Though not alive, it still needed a nervous system to move! It fell still after a few moments, and the scent of charred meat would have appetized him in most circumstances. Death once again missed him by inches.

His ruptured helmet sparked and was too damaged to retract. Sighing, he worked his fingers into the holes and pulled as hard as he could. The metal pried apart in his hands, clattering to the floor in pieces.

"You are a goddamn madman," Gabe laughed between bouts of pain. Good; the fact that such a hardass chuckled probably meant his wound wasn't lethal. "Color me impressed, Mason." Grunting, he limped over to Eckhardt's flayed body and poked around what remained of his pockets.

"What are you doing?" Curtis asked.

"Trying to find out about this 'Lange'. Bastard might have some documents or something…" Ah, snooping. Well, McNeill was the detective, but he supposed the Sergeant might possess some forensic know-how. "Ah ha! Got something!" His expression shifted from triumph to one of confusion.

The thing he held appeared to be some kind of idol. It was a miniature cobalt-blue mask about the size of his palm. Strange horns radiated from the top, and it was etched in fine linework. This must have cost a lot – not the kind of thing mass-produced on some backwater fabrication line. Strange as it was, it looked kind of familiar…

"Do you know what this is?" Gabe asked, going back to probing the body but not coming up with much else. Curtis took the icon from him, his heartrate subsiding as he became lost in the craftsmanship.

"I – I think it's an Enigma mask," he muttered, thinking back to what he knew about the secretive upper echelon. "When I first researched Unitology, these always stood out to me – they're supposed to be symbolic of one single humanity, I think. Everyone has the same face." Obviously, this little thing wouldn't fit anyone, but the metaphor remained. "I think it's a token from Lange, considering he or she is an Enigma."

He rubbed the smooth metal before turning the thing over. Surprisingly, something was on the back: a single word.

**ORACLE**

That was Eckhardt's codeword. It must have meant something important, but he couldn't discern what. He didn't think the term bore any particular importance to Unitology. _Someone who dictates the will of God… sure sounds like something they'd like. _He showed it to Gabe, who brushed such symbology aside. He also let Curtis keep the trinket, as most of his pockets had been shredded by that point. It rested beside the fractured Marker pendant; they went well together.

"Well, this has been a bust. Least the traitor's dead now."

"And you don't feel bad about letting him die?" He thought back to the Mars Independence Riots; cops stood and watched while people tore each other to shreds when they weren't firing on them. That wasn't a fair comparison, but it's what came to mind.

"Not in the slightest. It was him or us, Mason. There are some people you can't just knock out and take to prison – even if we could have, the Church would have just gotten him out." Curtis sighed. Perhaps the man was right. He couldn't save everyone… and maybe he shouldn't. Still, it was damn hypocritical considering his prior actions.

_People are complicated. _His reverie was broken by fleet footfalls approaching. _Took them long enough. _He glanced down at the body and then back to Gabe. "What do we tell Lexine?" he asked, feeling his mouth crease downwards.

"That Eckhardt went crazy and tried to kill us."

While that wasn't a lie, it damn well wasn't the whole truth. The thought of deceiving his friends again made his face, already injured and enflamed, grow even hotter. "It's not ideal, but he was right about this. How the Hell could a young woman like that handle learning she has… _superpowers? _Not only that, but that the Church of Unitology is trying to hunt her down?"

When he put it like that… _I'm actually going to lie again, aren't I? _Fuck, this would come back to haunt him. He skulked, sullen, until they rounded the corner.

**4 Hours, 45 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

The entire darkened room came to a screeching halt as Nicole ambled in, battered and bloodied. The things she saw and the monsters she fought on the way… thank God it was almost over.

Everyone blinked and rubbed their eyes, thinking her one of the phantoms plaguing their waking nightmares. Then they realized she wasn't. Somehow, she made it. It took everything she had and more not to start sobbing.

A man limped up to her, the faintest glimmer of a smile etched upon his lips. Mostly, though, he looked like crap. "Uh, Evans, right?" she asked, dimly recalling the man's name. They'd talked maybe twice before.

"Welcome to our last stand, Dr. Brennan. I'm glad you could make it." They tried to shake hands, but hours of running and terror fucked with their equilibrium, so they couldn't quite get them together. "I'm honored you came."

"Likewise." At least these people didn't seem to have any illusions they'd escape. _Wonder if the others did. _She didn't want to call; finding out they failed would be too depressing. Finding out they succeeded would crush her, knowing she could have done the same. And if they left her hanging…

She surveyed the grim scene. Of course, the lights were mostly knocked out. Only a few people shambled between the groaning, dying patients… and not all of them appeared to be doctors, just less-injured laypeople. Life support machines ran on backup, wheezing along. They'd long ago run out of Med Packs, instead resorting to morphine and bandages. The place was a goddamn abattoir. Never seen anything like it. She never would again, either.

"Do the best you can."

That was it. She wandered between patients, providing what care she could with used needles and no gloves. This was a slaughterhouse. Almost everyone missed limbs. Some experienced the beginnings of organ failure. The only positive was the most of them were either unconscious already or drugged out of their minds. She would have seriously considered authorizing euthanasia if not for that.

Just thinking that made her want to vomit. She didn't deserve to be a doctor, let alone SMO of the Ishimura! Were these her own thoughts?! Was it the Marker?! She didn't know anymore and maybe never did. Isaac didn't help, yelling at her as she stitched and cauterized.

_You said you loved me, but you don't! You never did, you bitch!_

After a few minutes, she needed to step aside; wouldn't want to accidentally slice someone up while distracted. If only there was something – _anything _– she could do about this, yet nothing presented itself… except one thing. "Evans, I'll be back in five," she shouted over to him before heading for some backroom she'd noticed earlier. It had a terminal in it – perfect for creating her closing message.

She stepped in and closed the door, tears leaking out as she did. This really was the end. Already she heard skittering in the walls and ceiling. The Necromorphs knew their location. Why hadn't they already attacked? Perhaps they amassed more troops, or maybe they wanted to savor the last morsels. This must have been one of the last, if not the final, strongholds on the ship. Maybe a few loners or small groups still scuttled from oasis to oasis of safety, but 99 percent were dead at that point.

_But maybe I should look at Lexine's brainwaves again? _she thought. God, was she _still _on about this? Sure, there was scientific significance somewhere in them, but now wasn't the time! Death encroached from all sides, and all she focused on were squiggles. No, not focus; it was an obsession, one so strong she booted up the analysis program. _This better be worth it._

Within seconds, she again lost herself in the maze. Dipping, falling, flatlining, it was a rollercoaster ride against a sickly green background. The equipment here was more advanced than at the quarantine room or Security Station, which offered more options for analysis. She split the chaos into more manageable chunks, looking at the different components comprising the erratic patterns. Still nothing but nonsense.

Another migraine knocked at the back of her skull. She groaned, held her head and doubled over. Spots swam before her vision. Isaac was there. The Red Marker burned behind him, shooting some kind of energy into the black sky.

The pain was too great, and she passed out.

…

Eckhardt went crazy and tried to kill them. That was the lie fed to Nathan and Lexine. They bought it wholeheartedly – he was unpleasant, anyway. Didn't mean there wasn't a little grieving from them, at least the usual niceties of "I didn't know him all that well, but…" and other half-praises one often heard at funerals. It hurt Curtis' brain to see that happening next to a mutilated corpse, though at least his internal screaming stopped now that Lexine was present.

"So that's it?" she asked. "Are we ready to get out of here?"

"I think sooooono! Damn it!" Nathan yelled, smacking his palm into his head.

Of course. Of course there had to be one final problem. It was more annoying than scary by now. What could it possibly be? "The ADS, remember!"

"Shit." Gabe coughed up a little more blood, though a small Med Pack Nathan recovered kept him from bleeding internally. "We were so focused on escaping that it slipped my mind."

"What?" Curtis asked. "Why is the Asteroid Defense System a problem?" It was what blew up pieces of debris so they couldn't hit the Ishimura – should have been a good thing.

"During the no-fly order, Mathius changed the system's autotargeting so that it shot at _anything _nearby, not just asteroids. That's how our shuttle got destroyed on the way up here, and it'll happen again if we try to leave." Curtis slumped over. Why even bother trying?

_Because it's better than dying here? _Well, that was true enough. "What do we have to do?"

"The controls are in the Captain's Nest, off the Bridge," Gabe mumbled, struggling to his feet. Right, Curtis remembered that room – it was where the guards dragged him to and he first met Temple. "Now let's go."

"Like Hell you are," Nathan said, pushing Gabe back down. "You're in no condition to travel halfway across the ship." He tried to argue, but Lexine put a foot on his chest. Gabe was rendered powerless, unable to budge. Perversely, Curtis snickered. "And neither are you, Lex."

Now it was her turn to be flabbergasted. "What? This is important, Nate! You'll need all the help you can get!" Curtis was inclined to speak up on her behalf (without mentioning her very helpful supernatural powers) until he saw the desperation on Nathan's face.

He loved her. How could he send her to die?

Curtis gritted his teeth and said, "Nathan and I can do this, but somebody needs to stay here and keep an eye on Gabe." Everyone stared at each other for a long moment in silent agreement. That really was the plan.

"One last thing before you go," Gabe rasped. "There's some things in the Bridge Security Room you might find useful; would have gotten them earlier, but it was out of the way."

"What?"

"A new prototype heavy-duty RIG from Timson Tools. The CEC bought a few for high-ranking PCSI members… but we haven't used them yet. Least I haven't. Mine's still in a locker there, and that should be about your size, Mason. Probably another that'll fit you, McNeill." Wow. That'd be a godsend if true; his RIG was busted to shit, and "prototype" meant "better" to him. As in, light and flexible enough that it wouldn't destroy his body if he was in it for a long time.

He and Nate glanced at each other, steeling themselves for another long, long journey.

…

Isaac called to her. This was nothing like the dark, twisted Isaac she'd grown accustomed to over the past days, screaming and whispering at her to hurt herself and others. This was the man she knew and wanted to marry.

_You're back, _he said, taking her in his arms. _I was so worried about you._

"Isaac! I missed you so much," she sobbed, half expecting him to morph into a monster and attack. He didn't, though. Just… held her. She held him back, and they stayed like that for what felt like a long time. Whether it was her dying brain or some outside force protecting her, she couldn't say. She hugged him. Until she woke up, at least.

Reality cracked back into place, and she found herself sprawled on the floor next to the terminal. It had been more than five minutes. That wasn't what bothered her. No, that would be the silence emanating from behind the door. No Necromorphs… but nothing human, either. That somehow scared her more. She leapt to her feet and unsealed the threshold.

Everyone was dead.

Peaceful enough. They all had their throats slit, which silently leaked blood all over the floor. This couldn't have happened more than a couple of minutes ago – a few people still clawed the air as their lifeforce vacated. It was euthanasia, just as she considered prescribing earlier. _Evans? _Nope, he was dead, too. Maybe he did it – who knew?

Should have made her feel awful. Instead, she was grateful. She got to assist a couple more people before the end, which rapidly approached. The skittering and yelping in the vents was louder now; even with a dearth of living targets, there were still plenty of corpses to infect.

That's when the Necromorphs attacked. Well, it was less an attack and more of a slow saunter. Vent grates flew off as the first wave emerged, bloodthirsty and roaring, only to be surprised that everyone was already dead. _No, don't humanize them. They can't feel surprise. _This was confirmed by their dull, glassy eyes, which she got good looks at as more swarmed into the chamber. No ambition or emotion or anything human, except – except _one._

The Hunter. A long, painful shiver clawed down her spine as she spotted Harris in the sea of flesh. It was different; its jaundiced, glowing eyes held the same sapience as any human. It was just… misdirected. Puppeted. Twisted for evil, just like the body. More than usual, considering its control was shared by the Marker and Mercer (if he still lived). She supposed that made it a "Necromorph alpha", if they even possessed any sort of pack structure.

They locked gazes, staring at and into each other. It (he?) knew it needed to kill her – that's what its DNA demanded. Didn't offend her.

But it momentarily turned away, whether out of deference, guilt or respect, she couldn't say. However, the intention was clear.

It offered a reprieve; a few petty minutes to put her worldly affairs in order before the reaper arrived. She would have hugged the corpse if she didn't fear its wrath. "Thank you," she mouthed as Infectors began injecting cadavers with their bile. Crunching bone and steaming flesh weren't easy sounds to forget as someone's cells were torn apart and put back together.

_DNA. Cells, _she thought as she slumped over in the chair. There was an air vent on the ceiling behind her; the vector of her doom was clear. _I wonder… _To her utter shame, she opened Lexine's brainwaves again. She had mere minutes to tell Isaac she loved him, but this was apparently more important. _I'm so close, though!_

The shrieks of infant Necromorphs shook the flues as she typed. How long would the Hunter's mercy would last? Another world unfolded as the lines hypnotized her. Not just lines – vectors, replication, patterns. Patterns that looked familiar as she watched them swim and comingle.

The Necromorph virus was completely alien, yet it was also compatible with the human genome. The genetic changes it induced were minimal. That meant the Marker must have "known" about human morphological ordination.

And that's when she realized. She gasped and staggered back as the whole truth dug its claws into her.

The patterns and signals in Lexine's brain were symbols… rather, their inverse, like a child writing a backwards "N". _Marker _symbols, the kind Unitologists believed held divine truth. They didn't, though. The Church worked for centuries to decode the Black Marker to no avail, but she cracked it, and these brainwaves were the key!

It was an altered version of the human genome; each glyph was a single gene. Projected via some kind of invisible carrier wave, this information would drive those within range mad and reconfigure deceased tissue into Necromorphs. Lexine's entire biology was the inverse of this – very nearly human, but somehow _not, _and her nervous system radiated waves at an inverse frequency in a textbook example of wave interference; the two signals cancelled each other out, freeing those around her from the Marker's mental effects.

That left a whole slew of questions that she didn't have time to answer: how, why and all the rest. The secret would die with her, but at least she went to her grave knowing that she singlehandedly solved one of the era's biggest mysteries.

The pipes were louder now. The Hunter approached. It was finally time. Again, Isaac wouldn't receive this message for decades without FTL comms, but the knowledge it was out there would let her die… not contently, but as gracefully as one could.

Taking a deep breath, she brushed her disheveled hair out of her face and wiped away the blood on her cheeks. She didn't want to scare him too badly.

"Isaac, it's me. I wish I could talk to you," she began. The rattling stopped; the Hunter wanted to let her finish. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry about everything." Honestly, these words were more for herself; all her mistakes and doubts. "I wish I could just talk to someone… it's all fallen apart here. I can't believe what's happening." Again, she wanted to avoid specifics. Better for her boyfriend to think she died to a terrorist attack or colossal accident rather than the undead. Her own hypocrisy meant little – she was about to die.

"It's strange… such a little thing. In the end, it all comes down to just one little thing." What was that "thing"? Even she didn't know. Patterns? Brainwaves? Despair? She scarcely understood her own words with her mouth being so dry.

It was time.

Hands trembling, she pulled a syringe out of her pocket. Ten milliliters of pure morphine – more than enough to kill a person. She wished there was a way to chop off all her limbs before she died so that she didn't become one of _them… _but that didn't really matter. Just about everyone else was dead, anyway, so the chances she (or rather, her unthinking corpse) would hurt anyone was virtually nil.

"I didn't want it to end like this," she cried, nearly dropping the vial with her hands shaking so hard. "I really wanted to see you again… just once." She began weeping as she croaked, "I love you! I've always loved you!"

She seized the syringe in her right hand and plunged it into her left ulnar artery. Her arm burned as she pressed down, inundating her body with lethal amounts of the drug. Death would occur within a minute.

She was so, so tired, and not just from the chemicals on the way to her brain. Finally, a chance to rest. _What comes next? Heaven? Hell? Being trapped in the shell of my body? _It didn't matter for the moment. She just wanted to sleep.

The Hunter stuck its head out of the duct, but she raised her hand to present the mark on her wrist. It seemed to understand, ducking out and crawling away. _Nice guy._

She slipped into limbo. Colors flashed before her eyes – mostly red and black. Her limbs turned to iron. The last thing she heard before falling into the eternal night was a long, high-pitched flatline.


	10. AWOL

**5 Hours Post-Outbreak**

Curtis and Nathan shot the foul-smelling breeze on their trek to the Bridge. It was all they could do during seven stops on a rickety, grinding, screeching tram that threatened to combust at any moment. The thing was on its last legs, and something told him they’d walk back to the Flight Deck. For the time being, though, they talked about all manner of things: previous jobs, hobbies, politics. It painted the surreal experience with a veneer of normalcy.

Somehow, the topic drifted to that of romance. Made sense; it was an eternally juicy subject and one far removed from the unfolding horrors.

“So, you and Lexine? We’ve all noticed,” Curtis said.

Nathan wistfully shook his head. “Lex is just incredible, I think. She’s done things I couldn’t even imagine a civilian doing.” He had no idea just how true that statement was with her psychic powers and all. “It might sound crazy, given that I’ve only known her for a few hours, but the people you fight alongside, whom you save and whom save you… you share a bond with them unlike any other, and I speak from experience.”

“Is that why you’re still friends with Gabe?”

“Probably. What about you? You have anyone special?”

“No, I don’t.” He was still torn on that; was it better to love and lose than never love at all? His feelings flew in all manner of directions, though that didn’t change the simple truth of him being alone. Even if he survived, he wasn’t sure about finding a significant other. Life was fleeting and best spent with someone, but he’d never recover from what he’d seen. Wouldn’t be fair for somebody else to put up with that.

“N-n-n-now arriving…” The AI fizzled halfway through, but this was their stop.

They stepped out, and Curtis wasn’t at all surprised to see corpses who couldn’t quite reach the gondola. The rest of the stops had been picked clean; this must have been among the final places the Necromorphs pillaged. This was good, though; more dead meant less undead. He loathed himself for daring to be grateful that people died.

The bodies piled up as they pressed down the tunnel. _Literally _piled up; there were stacks of them. Usually five or six, all pressed together. He hadn’t seen anything like it. “What is this?” he muttered to himself. Didn’t seem like evidence of intelligence, for there was no pattern. Seemed more like another instinct, akin to animals stockpiling food.

Smiling visages of ancient captains flickered out as they reached the Main Atrium. No struggle to get in this time, for the doors were wrenched open. The place was in shambles. Bodies everywhere (again, mostly in heaps) but only a couple of Pukers in terms of Necromorphs. These were easily dispatched from a distance, though the ranged vomit attack was new… and disgusting.

When it first nailed him in the chest, Curtis thought he was good as dead, but this type merely rusted his armor and slowed him down. No great loss, considering he was just about to strip out of it. He’d just shot the last Puker’s legs off from 50 feet away when he realized something; he wasn’t scared! Well, he was of the situation in general, but not these particular monsters. Whether it was long-distance fighting, the good illumination provided by the blazing twin suns or the fact a friend was with him (likely all three), he considered that a great accomplishment!

The Security Room wasn’t difficult to find; it was the one with one-way mirrors that overlooked the main entrance. Another pile of the dead and a bunch of smashed terminals were within. What else did he expect?

“I wonder where those RIGs are,” Nathan said. It took them a little while before finding several lockers for high-ranking PSCI members hidden a back corner, so it turned out Gabe wasn’t senile after all. The shattered mementos and family photographs on the desks reminded that not everyone could be so lucky.

“In here, I think,” he said, cracking Gabe’s open. They weren’t locked, fortunately. The insides proved quite a treasure trove! Ammunition for Nathan’s Divet, some Med Packs and even a few power cells for the Line Gun. Of course, the RIG was icing on the cake. It hung from the back, a glossy navy blue. _I don’t like that. Too eye-catching. _It wasn’t the most garish hue, but it’d still be far more visible than his hammered gray duds. Nathan looked equally impressed.

“I heard Timson was upping its game, but this is quality work.”

Curtis worked his way out of the titanium suit, which was more difficult than usual with the amount of damage it sustained. Most of the locking mechanisms were corroded, jammed or missing entirely. Nathan watched him struggle for a minute as he sweated and strained.

_Fuck this_. He loathed asking for assistance with something stupid like this, but he was tired, injured and _done. _“Uh, Nathan? A little help, please.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” With the other man pulling at one end, he was able to get out _mostly _unharmed. He winced as a shard of metal scraped his flank. Then he was out, wearing only an undershirt and boxers steeped in blood and sweat. The sensation of air on his clammy skin felt almost alien. He took just a moment to enjoy it before donning his new threads; they’d wasted time enough.

This RIG was far more accessible. Instead of metal, it was crafted from some kind of synthetic polymers yet seemed just as durable. Far easier on his body, too! Most of the interfaces were familiar to him despite belonging to an entirely different profession. He was in love by the time it reached his shoulders. Though not an engineer, he suspected this was the future of industrial RIGs. Feeling a cocky smile form, he cracked his neck and activated the helmet.

It assembled around his head lightning-fast; the readouts and vital displays appeared almost instantaneously! Much more of a streamlined interface, which would help him adjust quickly. “Nathan, this is – my voice! What is this?”

It came out ridiculously deep and threatening, making Nathan take a step back. “Sounds like you have the voice filter on – it’s something we use to scare criminals.” Made sense, though it wouldn’t work on the Necromorphs. Still, it could be fun to mess with.

He gazed at the man before raising his clenched fist. “Nathan… I am your father.”

This was met by a blank stare. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Eh, some old vid nobody cares about anymore,” he replied, finding the switch for the filter. “Now let’s find one for you.” Luckily, there was one more about his size, and Nathan also got into it without much trouble.

God, there was so much cool shit on here! He expected it to be more advanced than his old suit, but he didn’t even know where to start. Improved thrusters and grav-boots, more pockets; the USM did a lot of business with the CEC, but he didn’t understand why the military gear on a mining vessel was more advanced than the actual mining equipment – probably the same reason sports got more funding than liberal arts at school. _Whatever, tools are still better than guns at killing these things._

“I’m ready,” Nathan said with a nod. He and Curtis walked towards the door. Both of them were so distracted checking out the new features that it took him a moment to register the squelching sounds coming from behind.

_Great, some monster’s coming out of a vent. _Almost nonchalantly, he flipped the Line Gun’s safety off and turned around to blast whatever it was. However, the sight almost made him drop it.

The pile of bodies stretched and fused like a blender from Hell. The five people literally became one; parts of each migrated to form massive limbs as their discolored flesh knitted itself together. It made sense by the situation’s twisted logic – each Necromorph had more or less the same DNA, so the virus could combine multiple people together in the correct circumstances… like when dead bodies were on top of each other. Both were so scared that they couldn’t shoot, not that it would have done much to the recombinated hulk.

It stood ten feet tall on arms and legs as thick as tree trunks. The entire form was protected by rough, chitinous armor; only its shoulders and knees were naked enough to reveal pus-drenched necrotic skin. The only thing even remotely human was its face, made of a single human skull locked in an eternal smile. Almost looked comical for a regular-sized head to be mounted on such an enormous body.

It wasn’t funny, though. It made him piss inside his brand-new RIG (though, again, the catheter made that acceptable). The thing didn’t scream or howl. Didn’t need to. It merely moseyed forward like a gorilla on all four of its limbs, readying itself to tear them in half. The floor rumbled as it approached. Nowhere to run or hide.

Curtis involuntarily stuck out his hand like a goddamn traffic cop. _We’re gonna die. Fuck this ship. _As it was about to bear down, a small blue ball launched from his palm, which impacted the abomination right as it began to charge. Now coated in a cobalt field of energy, its movements slowed to a crawl, allowing him to see its flesh ripple with each small movement.

“Holy shit! It has a stasis module!” he squealed like a kid on Christmas. This was exactly the present he’d looked for! The tachyon emitting technology was virtually ubiquitous nowadays, but portable ones were ludicrously expensive; he’d only worked with them a couple of times. Would have been impossible for the CEC to afford to get one for every miner, but these RIGs sure had them!

Already it faded, though; the turquoise envelope collapsed as normal spacetime fought to reassert itself. Nature didn’t like being broken. Curtis glanced over at Nathan, who still trembled. “Stick out your left hand and flick your wrist!” he barked. Took a lot of energy to rip time asunder, so the modules needed several minutes to recharge between uses!

Gabe wouldn’t have done it, but this man did. The same thing happened, and the now-enraged monster began its charge, wanting to end this little game. The options ran through Curtis’ head as fast as lightning.

No cover in the Atrium. The stasis would wear off before they could escape. They were all out of energy. Despite its size, the thing looked fast. _A Hulk? No, that’s taken. Brute? Brute sounds pretty good – why I am still thinking about this?!_

The door. The Security Room’s threshold was slightly ajar, which would allow them to utilize the _other _thing he realized came with the suit: kinesis. “Use your right hand, point at the left side of the door and make a fist!”

Curtis did the same for the right side. Another beam shot from his palm, this one a whiter hue of gravitons. He didn’t know if these subatomic particles really had color or if that was just to make it look cooler. The field bound the door’s right segment, and his muscles strained as he fought against the weight. He still had to exert effort to move things, at least in gravity. Wasn’t magic… though it might as well have been.

The metal screeched as both halves drew closer together, overwhelming the Brute’s roars. Through the crack, he saw the last of the energy dissipate, and he grit his teeth as it crashed against the steel like a tidal wave.

The room shook as it threw itself at them again and again. Being for PCSI Security, this particular door must have been reinforced. “Keep going!” Moments later, the thing clicked shut, though that did little to dampen the desperate howls. More would come.

“You just saved my life,” Nathan huffed as they sprinted away, trying their best to avoid the piles of the dead that might spontaneously reanimate.

“No problem.” And that was the end of it. What else could be said? A lot, actually. They rushed down the stairs, avoiding fires and more corpses. Maybe the Marker signal would resurrect these corpses instead of Infectors. It’d take the virus longer to form, but pretty much everyone was dead anyway, so no rush.

They took the small lift at the back of the chamber down. **“Captain’s Nest,” **the sign read. Read. Red. It was all red. _Stop it! _He staggered forward, ignoring the rivulets of blood gushing from the walls. Nathan saw them too, he somehow knew. Neither of them addressed the other. The gore continued in the room proper, though it looked more like pus with the yellow light thrown off by the hologram of Aegis VII, still happily spinning in the center. How much was real and how much existed in his own head didn’t matter. They just had to find the control panel.

“Engines… life support,” Nathan muttered, going from panel to gory panel. “Here! The ADS.” Amazingly, there was a big red off button sitting next to it. Mathius really did do nothing.

The moment he thought that name, he heard wheezing behind him. Turning around, he saw the Captain sitting in his chair with that syringe pointing from his eye.

“You let me die!” he screamed before vanishing. Curtis fell to the floor and clambered back. Nathan took no notice, focused as he was on the little blinky things.

The screen flashed; dozens of icons shifted from blue to red, which he assumed meant they powered down. One after another, they flickered out… except one. A single railgun remained online – and then the rest reactivated. Curtis trembled with anger; it felt like his head would explode and paint the inside of his mask red. Like everything else.

Exasperated, Nathan spun an audio log to Gabe. “We’ve got a problem here! The system’s not turning off.”

“Figures,” he wheezed. Sounded like he’d punctured a lung. “If one cannon malfunctions, the rest can’t be turned off. It’s a safety feature. Must be the… trench cannon. We crashed near its power array.”

They already stalked out of the room as Curtis fumed. He wanted so badly to hit something… like the man right next to him. It was obviously the Marker’s work, but the desire felt so, so real. He’d explode if he didn’t kill something soon. _Never thought I’d want to find more Necromorphs._

“Can we disable it from there?”

Gabe couldn’t respond, as he was in the throes of a coughing fit. “He’s nodding his head. Yes!” Lexine said for him.

“OK, we’re on our way up.”

“You better hurry or Weller’s gonna kick your asses,” she replied, laughing so that she didn’t cry. “Love you.”

“I love you, too.” Nathan turned to him. Curtis willed himself not to throw a punch even as the Shadow Man prodded him. “Let’s go.”

And they did. At least, that’s what it seemed like. His head pounded; the amount of physical, emotional and mental trauma he sustained reached a critical mass. The pressure would snap his brain like a twig if he didn’t leave very, very soon. Nathan seemed to sense it, too, and both stumbled along, stealing glimpses at each other both to make sure the other was still there and not attacking. His rage only grew. The only thing that prevented them from lashing out at each other was the omnipresent threat of Necromorphs.

By the time they reached the Main Atrium again, most of the corpse piles had disappeared. Brutes or whatever other massive varieties these things came in obviously couldn’t fit through the vents, but the many streaks of blood leading towards the destroyed door to the tram system gave Curtis a good picture. They’d use the tracks to spread.

There was an elevator in the room’s center, which they made it to without any trouble – a single Slasher wearing cracked glasses stood on the other side of the room, just growling at them, apparently not liking its odds against two heavily armed and armored humans. _Chic? _The face had been marred beyond recognition, but who else here wore glasses? Neither of them wanted to waste ammo, so they just kind of stared at the monstrosity for a minute until the lift arrived. _Interesting that they still have some kind of survival instinct._

Stepping aboard, the monster skittered away. Curtis let out a long sigh. “Did you know anyone else aboard?”

“A few. Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.” That was the only conversation they partook in before reaching the “top” floor – there was really no up or down in space, just arbitrary directions and whatever surface grav-panels were mounted on.

The opened, and they were out. Now _this _was the post-apocalyptic Ishimura he knew and hated; emergency lights, dark, cramped halls and poor directions. Fortunately, with the comms back up, he was able to pull up a route to the mass driver, although they didn’t have time to closely look at it. If this wasn’t a matter of life and death, he also would have played some music inside his helmet.

Their weapon-mounted flashlights danced across dull metalloids, luminous holograms, and, of course, blood. Only in the midst of such terror did Curtis realize the strangeness of that juxtaposition: the artificial and the carnal. Humanity needed both to survive, but Necromorphs only required the latter. Did that make them superior or inferior beings? _Well, they did beat us._

His untimely reflections were interrupted by what sounded like sobbing down the hall. “Do you hear that?” he asked. “Someone’s here.”

“I do. It’s this way,” Nathan whispered back. The crying got louder. While he assumed it was a hallucination, how could he know for sure. Better to check it out; he’d already let too many die. Rounding a corner, he saw a shadow crouching in a corner, covered in blood. Looked familiar… his mind was fuzzy.

“L-Lexine?” Nathan asked, stumbling forward. No, this clearly wasn’t her, but he gave Nathan’s judgement the benefit of the doubt. Why was she there? Shouldn’t she have been…

_Nate… Help me, please… _The static voice echoed in his mind. Wait, that couldn’t have been right.

“Hey, maybe you should back up,” he slurred. “I don’t like this.”

He turned back. “Yeah, maybe you’re – ”

The Shadow Man was atop him in a second as the Marker’s artificial haze wore off. Except it wasn’t anymore – it was another new Necromorph “species”.

This was one of the less humanoid types he’d encountered, looking more like a horrific crab than anything. It was impossibly scrawny, merely a skeleton with some taut skin. The right arm grew impossibly long, ending in an emaciated claw while the organs formed a single “leg” growing from the torso. The head was almost normal… except the fact it’d been split in half and its brains hung out. Most of its mass had been relegated to the left arm, which bulged and actually _glowed orange _with massive cysts of some unknown fluid.

“Oh shit!” he shouted, aiming his Line Gun at the swollen arm; dismembering that would surely take it out. His laser sight wobbled into focus.

“Don’t! It’s burning!” Curtis frantically tried to understand, only doing so when he spotted a thin stream of the liquid leaking from a punctured pustule. It burned through the ground like a Puker’s vomit, only even more extreme; the drops burst into puffs of smoke.

If he shot the thing, it’d fucking explode. _Exploder. _Better than “suicide bomber”.

It kept hollowly screeching as it grappled; sounded like a laughing hyena. Nathan just barely managed to hold its head and arm away. _Can’t use the gun, can’t kick it, can’t use kinesis. Stasis! _The Necromorph raised its bloated limb in triumph. He glanced at the readout on his arm – yes, it was recharged! He projected the tachyons, ran up to McNeill, who was caught in the blast, and hauled his glowing blue ass out of there as the monster, unable to halt its own momentum, blew itself up.

The shockwave blasted down the corridor, sending them flying several feet down, rolling as they went. He smashed his head against the inside of his helmet, momentarily shorting out the charts.

They came to rest in the hall’s middle, flat on their backs and gasping for foul air. This RIG’s scrubbers were much better, replacing the nasty odors of guts and gore with an array of fresh scents – he chose balsa wood. The ringing in his ears subsided, allowing distant yowls in. The entire floor heard.

They ran, quickly escaping the beasts. The Ishimura’s haphazard layout seemed to confuse them all equally, which evened the playing field a little. Within a minute, they were at… an airlock?! He looked at his map again, and his stomach dropped when he saw this was indeed the correct route – a couple hundred yards in zero-gravity and hard vacuum.

Those weren’t problems in and of themselves; he was accustomed to both. What terrified him was being in empty space with nothing but grav-boots preventing him from being sucked into oblivion. He’d had nightmares about that as a kid. Every modern child must have. Screaming as he floated away but unable to make it back.

He shuddered. Talk about being stuck being a rock and a hard place… or a void and someplace really sharp. _I can do this, _he thought, rubbing his hands together. _It’ll be easy. _He touched the blue hologram on the outer airlock. There was a brief hiss as atmosphere met oblivion, then nothing. A counter started on the top-right corner of his visor. He had five minutes of oxygen, minus whatever he used for the thrusters. Should be enough.

The monochromatic void stretched wide before him: grey metal, black sky, brown planet. The suns were on the opposite side of the ship, creating a truly desolate limbo, and the trench they were in even blocked most starlight. Dead space.

His knees turned to jelly, though that was nothing compared to the shame in his gut. He couldn’t.

“You don’t need to come,” Nathan said over RIG-Link. “The cannon’s right there.” He gestured to a small structure a hundred yards over the rim. It responded with a salvo directed at some nearing rockballs, which were promptly vaporized. Come to think of it, there was _a lot _of debris from the planet crack that got perpetually nearer; the Ishimura’s gravity beams still held the main tectonic fragment in place, but small chunks often broke away.

Flipping off the ADS would pretty much condemn the ship to be obliterated… but there was no one left alive to complain. “I’ll go,” he said, steadying himself. “If I can face my zombified crewmates, I can handle a little spacewalk.”

Nathan nodded, and they crossed into nihility.

Keeping his head down relieved the enormous pressure in his head, which came from both hallucinations and fear. There was only the ground. Sky? What sky? Using his thrusters would have been quicker, but having both feet unanchored in this void was untenable, not to mention it would have burned through his air supply.

_Come back, quickly, _a soulless voice shouted in their minds. Obviously supposed to be Lexine, but those tricks didn’t work on him; the Shadow Man didn’t want them to leave. Nathan, however, was cursed with love.

“Lex…” He looked around.

“It’s not really her.” Curtis grabbed him by the arm and pulled him along, expecting to be bludgeoned. Amazingly, though, he wasn’t. _Maybe I’m just a violent person. _Honestly, the fact that Nathan saw and heard Lexine made him envious. Eckhardt said the people the Marker showed you were ones you’d loved for years. The fact that they’d only known each other for a few hours meant it was practically destiny for them to get together. _He said the people you fight alongside become your family. Maybe that really is true. _Still, he was much happier to see the Shadow Man’s unsubtle, obviously evil visage.

Curtis didn’t notice they’d reached the mortar until the battery’s shadow eclipsed him. Another volley strobed the area with light before it fell into darkness again.

He “ran” (more of a dawdling jog, given the lack of gravity) to the airlock and leapt inside with Nathan right behind. Gravity never felt so good! Nearly kissing cold steel, he basked in luxuries like light and air that most normal people took for granted. He certainly did while on Earth. _At least I’m appreciating what I have more now. _If he really did make it home, he wasn’t sure he’d ever have the strength to leave.

The battery was different than he expected. Then again, he’d never been in one of these before, so why have expectations at all? It was a small room overlooking the gigantic railgun through a ballistic glass (well, he called it glass – must have been some amazingly dense transparent alloy) window. This rattled off shots every few seconds into the horizon; either the autotargeting was so good that it could detect debris invisible to the naked eye or the thing was malfunctioning. The latter seemed more likely.

A chair and terminal were the only pieces of furniture, used for manual control of the mass driver. _What a disaster that’d be. _There were also several ADS warheads scattered around, emblazoned with various warnings and trefoils. Kind of scary that these were left lying on the floor; they’d blow up if an asteroid got through. _Nicole was right about this place being a death trap._

While he stood and looked around, Nathan worked to disable the system… or something. Really, he just cracked the main control panel and yanked out wires. “Shut down already!” he yelled, making Curtis jump back. They teetered on the edge of insanity. A few more ripped cables and the cannon sputtered out. 

“OK, we should be able to shut it down now,” Curtis said, a wary eye still trained on the detective. Ignoring him, Nathan instead spun an audio log to Lexine. Good, at least he was focused on something.

“It’s disabled. We’re on our way back.”

“Please hurry! Weller’s in bad shape, and I can’t find any painkillers!” The terror was palpable; Curtis teeth chattered at the thought of even more death.

“I said we’re coming! Just – ” The rest of his words were sucked away with the air. A few of the ADS shells came with them, but Curtis paid little attention as they sprinted across the hull. This time he kept his eyes up to move faster, which made the ship stretch before his eyes – the exit seemed a thousand miles away.

Space was dead silent. He’d experienced that before, of course, but this time it overpowered him. Ironic that a vacuum could be so crushing. There was only one noise now. It was neither heart nor stomach nor any organ. It was the alien screaming inside his own head.

_Why don’t you die?! _the Shadow Man shrieked as he ran. _Break! You have no protector to keep you sane!_

Another surge of agony, and the screaming grew louder as he ran. This time, it may have been his own. Blood trickled from his nose to his open mouth, and he gagged on the taste. “Ten minutes!” he yelled to himself. “Ten or fifteen minutes and I’ll be back!” He just needed to stay alive. The door was so close, offering safety and danger in equal measures.

Then the ground began to quake.

Curtis at first thought little of it – a distant asteroid impact or the engines straining. It grew more intense and frequent as the seconds went, almost like massive footsteps… but that couldn’t have been. Even as the vibrations invaded his very being, he refused to believe. And then a shadow fell over him.

_No. It’s not possible. _He turned back, expecting another nightmare. What he saw was much, much worse.

He didn’t think there were enough corpses aboard to form something so massive. The gigantic abomination was fifty feet long, at least – its entire body couldn’t fit within the trench, so perhaps that was merely a fraction. His broken mind ran wild. Dozens of legs, tentacles, pincers, proboscides and other appendages he couldn’t describe studded its chitinous hide.

That was it. He was dead. How could they stand against this… he didn’t even have a word to describe it. Nathan had different thoughts. Maybe it was insanity or rage or something he couldn’t fathom, but he began firing his Divet. The puny bullets pathetically pinged off the creature before being deflected into the depths of space. It was like an ant trying to kill an elephant. The sight of a gun being fired without the noise reminded him of playing a video game with the sound off.

_Run. Save yourself, _said his dark doppelganger… though it sounded a lot more like himself than he cared to admit. And he wanted to – he could say Nathan nobly died to save him. As his legs tried to run, his body wouldn’t let them. He would never forgive himself if he left someone else behind.

The thing might have roared – some faint ghost of a sound reached his ears. A haustellum descended and wrapped around Nathan, who pathetically struggled to break free. If he ran _now, _he could make it, yet his mind was already made up. He pressed the Line Gun to the magnetic holster on his back; he wouldn’t need it if his haphazard plan actually worked.

Eyes flashing open and shut, he disengaged his grav-boots and leapt into the void. The thrusters engaged. He vomited all over the inside of his helmet. Then again. This was a bad idea. Still, he flew toward what he _thought _was the battery, though it might have been into deep space. His oxygen supplies began to run low (two minutes), and the thrusters gobbled up what remained.

He slammed into a wall yet again. He didn’t care. The bile began to drip away, leaving him only _mostly _blind. This was the right spot, at least. Three glints of light above him were the only hope of Nathan’s survival. He snatched each down with Kinesis and departed into the void.

From up here, he saw the monster’s entirety – a malignant centipede that dragged itself over the hull. Perhaps the miner he’d seen sucked into space became part of it.

He hyperventilated, whittling away his precious air even faster. Three ADS shells to kill this thing? He didn’t like the odds… but he guessed he didn’t have to kill it – it just had to let go of Nathan. That made his job a little easier.

Though he could have “thrown” the things with Kinesis, he wanted to use his own hands. Those were tools he’d used his whole life rather than just a few minutes. _Throwing things in Zero-G? It’s just like Z-Ball. _That gave him a really stupid idea, possibly the dumbest he’d ever had. Ten seconds later, the Space Jam theme exploded into his ears.

His fingertips brushed the edge of the first shell as it began to drift away, sending it gently spiraling back to him. The stars whirred overhead. Yellow, Green, Blue. Red, of course. Nathan stopped moving. Damn it! In desperation, he threw. Whatchya gonna do, indeed.

_BOOM! _That’s the sound he imagined, but nothing of the sort reached him. A burning yellow flash was all, which would have blinded him were it not for his visor darkening. _Smart RIG. _The thing recoiled, flailing its tentacles, and the disgusting limb holding Nathan floated away, having been blow completely off. “Ha! Take that, you ugly bastard!”

He didn’t think it’d be able to attack him from so far away; it was long, but it wouldn’t risk detaching itself from the hull and drifting off into space. Unfortunately, it didn’t need to. Took him a few moments between his excitement and the music pounding into his ears for him to notice the foot-long bony spikes flying towards him! “Fuck!”

He twisted to the side as one flew past, nearly impaling him. Another clipped a warhead; an inch closer to the center and it would have detonated and killed him. As it was, it still spiraled out, doomed to wander the stars. Perhaps it’d slam into a planet 10,000 years hence to brighten someone else’s day, but it sure didn’t help his.

One warhead. A faceplate full of vomit. Upbeat music. A dying friend. A minute of oxygen left. And a giant-ass, pissed-off monster. This wasn’t what he expected when he took the job… but he knew what he needed to do.

He grabbed the final shell and stared daggers at the creature. _The Spider. Let’s call it that. _“The Centipede” had too many syllables. His arm spasmed with tension, for this was his one and only shot. The monster spread its primary mouth and let out another silent roar. That was Curtis’ cue to throw. Shoot baby shoot!

It reminded him of Nicole’s final point during the Z-Ball game; a perfect shot whizzing straight towards its target. Even with him pirouetting uncontrollably from the recoil, he couldn’t help but laugh. The shell flew straight into its mouth.

It was like watching a mountain being razed with explosives. A yellow flash, and a massive chunk (a fifth or even a quarter) of the abomination was reduce to a mist of blood and bone that boiled in the vacuum. Despite being an inhuman amalgamation of hundreds of people, it looked agonized. And that made Curtis feel even better. Maybe that was sick – this was an animal, after all. Was enjoying its pain really any better than torturing dogs or cats?

_Those things don’t try to kill you, though. And I had to save Nathan. _That’s right! He boosted towards the ship for a moment before his momentum sputtered and the message he dreaded popped up on the soiled holo-screen.

**OXYGEN DEPLETED**

The RIG’s emergency stores provided some nitrogen and argon to suck on so he didn’t choke on carbon dioxide, but he still had mere minutes until lapping into unconsciousness and death soon after. He drifted towards the vessel as the Spider, heavily injured (but not quite “dead”) skittered away to lick its wounds. _Could have killed it with that last round._

He bounced for a few moments, scrambling to find traction. For a split second, his body drifted away and his deepest fear was realized… until he seized a small indentation. Nearly crying with joy, he felt to make sure his Line Gun was still attached before running across the hull. His vision blurred as the amount of oxygen in his blood diminished. It was terrifying yet also invigorating to _feel _himself slip away.

_Sleep. You know you want to… _the Shadow Man groggily whispered. The lack of air must have also affected it, so it wasn’t all bad.

He fought through, inching towards the door. _Nathan… I need to find him. _Not easy given the exhaustion and his dirty helmet. He limped towards the door in a dull haze, pausing only when he tripped over something. That something, as it turned out, was Nathan. Though dying, he was lucid enough to recognize what a lucky bastard he was.

His friend, on the other hand… it was bad. Lacerations and tears ripped through the RIG, depressurizing it. His chest rose and fell slightly as his body struggled to breathe but found no air. It was amazing that he still clung to the ship. When Curtis tried to pick him up, that relief turned to horror.

Nathan’s right wrist was pinned to the hull by one of the Spider’s ossified barbs, which leaked a mysterious saffron fluid. “Oh no.”

He tried to yank it out even as the other man unconsciously clung to him in desperation. Nothing worked; it was tightly embedded in the hull. His mind slipped further into the black. _Black._

** _ HELP. _ **

“I can’t help you, you evil rock!” Curtis shouted as his feet dug into the metal.

** _ HELP YOU. _ **

“What’s your advice?!” The notion of psychically speaking to a stone deity no longer seemed strange in the slightest; far stranger things were afoot.

Something surged through his failing brain – not words, not emotions, not even an idea. More of a heavy sense of duty. Maybe an alternate solution existed if corners were cut, but only seconds remained. “This is going to hurt. I’m sorry,” he gasped, whipping out the Line Gun.

He pressed it against Nathan’s wrist, flipped off the safety and pulled the trigger. The pain of his hand being severed jolted the man from his coma. He struggled and screamed as Curtis seized his neck and dragged him tooth and nail back to the airlock.

Each step was a marathon, and his lungs were fire. The Black Marker was ebony even as the world darkened – a void within a void, urging him on. “Come on! Come on!” he demanded himself. His quivering palm brushed the hologram.

He collapsed, gasping while his brain died. At the edge of his consciousness, he saw the door open. _Rest, _he told himself. _Just for a minute. _The Marker was not so easy to persuade, however.

Electric fire coursed through his veins. **_LIVE._**

“Fuck you!” On his hands and knees, he crawled into the airlock with Nathan in tow. At last, he collapsed as oxygen flooded the chamber.

…

Nicole wandered through a sanguine haze. Red was the color of blood, anger, passion, carnage and the Marker. All relevant topics, especially the last – it was a lighthouse on the horizon, blaring and shrieking, calling home all its undead servants. She was among them.

She saw eternity. Beginnings and endings all rolled into one. The universe unfolded before her – reality collapsed into the singularity known as the Marker… but that wasn’t all. Somehow, she glimpsed something _behind _the stone. Something massive and beyond comprehension even as it remained mostly hidden. It would have broken her if her mind was still her own. But it wasn’t. She belonged to this force now.

** _ BOW. _ **

It was the voice of her Red God, and she was glad to obey its commands.

** _ WE HUNGER. _ **

An overwhelming desire proliferated throughout her body. It was agonizing. _Hunger. _Not for food, though. Physical sustenance belonged to mortals. She longed for something more: Convergence. The eternal thirst to be made whole.

** _ RISE. _ **

The dreamscape faded, and reality encroached again. One of her kin retracted its proboscis from her head as the last of her body formed. She clambered to her feet with a strength and cunning she didn’t remember but now couldn’t imagine being without. The glass machine offered a reflection: lithe, powerful, and a predator of the highest order.

Her mandibles splayed in some old, familiar motion she might once have known… did it start with an “S”? How little it mattered now. She felt the Red God, or perhaps what lived behind it, whisper in the back of her mind: **_KILL._**

It was as they commanded. She was a tool, one of the best in creation, and she would see the last remaining mortals on this prison to their graves. After that… who knew? The rest of the universe required salvation, as well.

Arcing her back, she expelled a guttural roar. Let the hunt begin.

…

Curtis raced through the halls as 23rd Century synth/tech/metal/whatever pounded into his head. This particular century’s music sucked, but it was loud enough to keep him moving. He _thought _there were Necromorphs behind him, but the ear bleeding screams made it difficult to tell. It was the only thing which kept the hallucinations at bay, punching through the Marker’s influence. Not a long-term solution, but it didn’t have to be!

Nathan nearly slipped out from his fireman’s carry, but he caught him without skipping a beat. Still unconscious… and he might not wake up. All he could do was keep on running. He hated it. Then again, what didn’t he hate about the past days?

_Almost there. _He could scarcely hear his own thoughts. The numbers flew by. He wanted to die after half-an-hour of sprinting with someone on his back. The RIG was the only reason he could do it at all, but that didn’t make him indefatigable, especially after almost suffocating earlier. _Fuck space._

Actually, he did finally hear an encouraging noise: shooting. They were still alive! _44\. 45. 46._

47\. He dashed inside, unsurprised by the carnage.Gabe and Lexine stood at the shuttle’s entrance, firing at anything and everything that moved – and _a lot _of things moved. Curtis flipped off the music. “Over here!”

“Holy shit! You’re alive!” Gabe yelled while blasting an arm off. Well, he seemed much better. “We were just about to leave!” Only then did Curtis realize the annoying buzzing noises he thought hallucinations on the way over were actually missed calls and they thought him dead.

He unceremoniously dumped Nathan at their feet and began unloading his Line Gun into the swarm. It came in waves; three or four every few seconds. “See if you can get him breathing!”

The look of pure horror on her face broke his heart. Her “soul mate” lay dead or dying on the floor while legions of undead surged closer. That’s when he decided his hatred was completely justified. Animals or not, he would milk every sour drop of joy he could from mutilating these things. Nevertheless, she got on her knees and began CPR.

“What are we standing around for?!” Shouldn’t they get into the shuttle and leave?!

Gabe pointed to the small room where Eckhardt betrayed them. Necromorphs now poured out, attracted through the vents by noise like moths to a flame. Speaking of flame, the broken wires must have set something in there on fire, for smoke poured out. “The shuttle needs to be launched from there! We haven’t been able to punch through!”

Time slowed as he scanned his fellow survivors. Nathan might well have been dead. Lexine was too traumatized to move. Gabe may have been on his feet, but he was in no shape to tackle a dozen of these things. Besides, the three of them presumably had friends, families, lives. He wasn’t burdened by such things. If anyone was worthy of this suicide run, it would be him.

He was scared. Terrified. But letting more people die was far more horrifying. He thought back to all the people he’d been unable to save – Mathius, Sam, Nicole and more. Besides, he didn’t really want to live anymore. Not after all he’d seen. This was his last chance to make a difference.

His cluttered, angry mind suddenly focused. There was one last thing he needed to do.

“Get in!” He charged, feeling like Maverick fucking Zombie Hunter.

“What the fuck are you doing?! Get back here, Mason!”

“I’m not you’re subordinate! I _want _to die!”

Gabe screamed something incomprehensible but nevertheless ushered the rest into the craft. The man would never forgive himself for running… but he had others who needed protection.

A well-placed unit of stasis slowed the first of the dozens of Necromorphs while he fired a mine from his gun at their feet. A couple more shots, and he still had ammo to spare. Fortunately, gravity was free. He seized a Slasher’s severed blade and hurled it with kinesis. Impaled one through the gut and into a wall.

Then he just started dodging and shooting. Ducked under a scythe, punched another and never stopped. This was his last stand, so he unloaded everything he had into the crowd. He didn’t even have to “kill” them, just slow them down! Through some miracle, he made it inside and shut the door.

His RIG-Link rang, and he picked up as he pounded away at the flight controls. A semester of Flight and Cargo Manipulation at community college luckily let his fingers fly. Necromorphs pounded at the door and the thick glass windows. They wouldn’t hold for long.

“Curtis, you don’t have to do this!” Lexine yelled. He admired her – he would have done much worse.

“Take care of Gabe and Nathan for me,” he said, pressing the final button.

Through the cracking glass, he saw the thrusters engage. It rumbled the room before the airlock opened, sentencing the Necromorphs to eternal prison in the depths of space as they were sucked away. That brought him a little joy, as did the fact that _he saved people. _Not momentarily led them to safety or delayed death for a moment – they were free. He longed to run out and try to catch up, but the chances of being able to do so were virtually zero. Better to die here with some dignity.

“Damn it, Curtis! We’re coming back to get you!”

“No, you aren’t! I put the shuttle to autopilot – it’s headed for the Sprawl.” For some reason, that was the first place he thought of. Whatever, it was in Sol and they could easily hitch a ride from there to Earth or whatever planet they wanted. “You’ll be there in a few hours. Send help if you can.”

“It’s already on the way,” Gabe coughed. “Right before you returned, I got word from Vincent. She managed to launch one of the general distress shockspace beacons – the CEC’ll pick that up and send a small army, no doubt. Not every day a planet cracker runs into trouble.”

There was silence for a moment as this all sunk in.

Then that quiet was interrupted by an old familiar flatline over the comms. _No. _He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to. The coldness of space suddenly enclosed strangled him.

“Nate,” Lexine gasped.

He was dead.

All that effort… it had been for nothing. He didn’t know how to feel anymore. Upset? Angry? Suicidal? He was so, so tired. Why couldn’t it just end? He wanted to die.

But then he was reminded that death wasn’t the end around here. A moment after the flatline, a series of squelches and pops rang out. It made too much sense. That yellow fluid in the Spider’s barbs was the same kind of noxious bile produced by Infectors. Got into his bloodstream, and the moment Nathan’s heart stopped beating and immune system shut down… it wasn’t him anymore.

“No!” he shouted, falling to his knees.

Roars. Shouts. Gunshots. Silence.

“Lexine?! Gabe?! Are you there?!” No response. Perhaps they’d dispatched Nathan’s corpse and had simply moved too far for his RIG to pick up. That was a real possibility. Or maybe the abomination slaughtered them both. 

Maybe it would take dockworkers on the Sprawl by surprise.

Maybe it would infect the entire space station, spreading the virus to millions.

Maybe from there, it could reach Earth and the rest of his species.

Or maybe none of that was true and his friends were fine. But in that small, dark room, all Curtis could comprehend was how his actions doomed humanity to extinction.

Clutching his head, he screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Thanks for reading this action-packed, depressing chapter. But aren’t they all? I don’t own Space Jam, by the way – I’m not one of the Warner Brothers.
> 
> If you’re wondering what Curtis’ new RIG looks like, it’s the Security Suit from Dead Space 2, except with the Ishimura on the right pauldron instead of Titan Station. In this canon, RIG technology gets a significant upgrade in the three years between DS 1 and 2, and this is a prototype that will eventually become standard issue. However, it’ll get an interesting new paintjob sometime later…
> 
> The Stalker also made her triumphant entrance! Many of you already guessed the twist with her (that it’s Nicole), and I applaud you. That’s an aspect I’m really excited about exploring – how will Isaac handle learning that his girlfriend is undead and (eventually) with another man? 
> 
> I also received the story’s cover art. Like the ASaF cover, this was done by the amazing Sarichow over at FurAffinity (a lot of her stuff is NSFW, if that’s a concern) – I have it posted on my DeviantArt account, AnInvisibleMan in much higher quality than the thumbnail provides. However, it’ll receive a few minor updates in the future. Sari is a fantastic artist and a joy to work with who I’ll gladly keep employing. I cannot recommend her enough.
> 
> Speaking of art, I’ve decided to hold off on the action setpiece for now – this stuff is expensive, and it’s probably better for me to space it out, anyway.
> 
> Thanks to DERPYSAUCE, ANCIENTOFDAYZ (twice), CRIMSON AN’XILEEL, BLAUORANGE and TYRANICALREPTILE for reviewing.


	11. Reanimated Terror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and welcome back to another installment of Ordination. School’s picked back up, but the good news is that this is a pretty lax semester for me – just 12.5 credit hours. Maybe that’ll help me update a little more regularly than I have in the past… but no promises, especially because I’m doing more extracurricular stuff. This is a shorter chapter because I just wanted to focus on Curtis’ and Nicole’s first interactions.
> 
> My biggest fixation for this update was the Necromorph mentality; how do they see the world and regular humans? That’s something the series doesn’t expound on. It’s known that they’re a hive mind controlled by the Brethren Moons via Markers, but that’s it. Can they share memories and thoughts? How much individuality do they retain? I don’t know the answers and honestly am making them up as I go along. 
> 
> That might not inspire great confidence, but it’s why I’m trying to make the parts from Nicole’s perspective both alien and understandable. I really hope that comes across. For now, though, Necromorphs can share emotions and feelings but not specific memories, which I guess makes them empaths… though most aren’t particularly empathetic.
> 
> I also hope I’m not rushing the relationship. Stuff’s happening and will happen faster than it should regarding the relationship, but that’s something which can’t be avoided. I mean, all the events of the early Dead Space material happen over a span of mere days. I had the luxury of dedicating an entire summer to Mike and Foxy’s relationship in ASaF… though perhaps I should stop holding different works to the same standards. Still, I hope it seems natural and that Nathan’s “fighting together makes you really close” philosophy holds true.
> 
> Thanks to THORIC BLACKTHORNE, MR. BEAVER BUTTINGTON, ANCIENTOFDAYZ (twice), CRIMSON AN’XILEEL, BLAUORANGE and PHOENIXGUY for reviewing.

**5 Hours, 45 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

No prey. Not yet.

Targets were all she focused on while patrolling the halls; that was what the Red God had commanded. It still did, in fact, pulsing through every cell in her body. Its words were clear as day. It whispered in her ear: **_HUNT._**

How could she not be an obedient slave to the thing that sustained her? The rest of her kin agreed. The same power lived in each of them, from her small brothers who slithered across the floor to her big sisters, who had many names bound up within them. Even the living walls sang the Red God’s glories.

Every mitochondria and ribosome vibrated with praise and worship. She paused a moment; how did she know such words? Shaking her head, she continued her stroll. It mattered not what remnants of her petty past life remained. The important thing was that she felt… _happy. _That was a feeling just as unfamiliar as her foot-long claws and lack of bodily functions.

This was a community in the truest sense of the word. She desired nothing more than to share this sensation with what humans remained. **_KILL._**

The word evoked carnal glories and only the slightest bit of concern. Of course she had to kill… but she didn’t want to be cruel about it. End their lives quickly and skillfully and let God do the rest. Simple.

She roamed a while more, greeting her kin with pheromones and subtle gestures as they passed, which were dutifully reciprocated. This wasn’t like how the lesser beings she hunted communicated. They were beyond mere words, able to convey information with mere thoughts. It wasn’t like seeing through the eyes of other – not quite. But the Red God linked all their minds together, allowing her to _feel _her kin. She possessed a deeper understanding of them than most humans did each other.

The boredom of waiting.

The thrill of the chase.

The prestige of the kill.

The hunger for something more.

All of these coursed through her (though primarily the former, considering their prey had been driven nearly extinct), along with the omnipresent urge to grow and change and finally be made whole. There were greater feelings, too, but they only caressed the edge of her mind. These were things known to the Red God and whatever shapes lurked behind it, if they existed at all.

She stopped suddenly, and what remained of her nose sniffed the air. Mostly pleasant pheromones produced by her kin, but there was something much uglier. Not human… but something a human would carry; artificial, false and designed to mask the flesh. Her mind reached back as far as it could, trying to recall a name for the foul odor.

_Balsa Wood?_

None of her kin noticed; her sense of smell was better than most. They all had their parts to play, and hers was that of silent hunter, waylaying travelers in far places. Therefore, she would go alone. This human, if he or she still lived, would doubtless fall before her might.

…

Curtis faltered along, eyes darting wildly from side to side. Monsters roared and slashed at him, tearing his flesh asunder. Yet still he lived, pressing on despite the agony. These hallucinations wanted to kill him, but he wouldn’t give them the pleasure. He’d rather be murdered by real monsters than the ones in his mind!

_Though I don’t really want to die at all. _Not at the moment, at least. His feelings on death varied by the minute. The temptation to put the Line Gun to his neck would resurge during a particularly intense moment of terror.

His teeth chattered as he smacked his head, aggravating the holograms and recalibrating his anemic brain to do some math – one of many subjects he consistently lagged behind in. _Radio waves and light and stuff go through shockspace almost instantly, so the CEC will have already gotten the distress signal. Took the Ishimura ten hours to get here from Sol, but they obviously won’t be sending anything as big. _He knew that less massive craft travelled quicker, but not by what magnitude. He just estimated and cut the time in half. _Five hours until help arrives. Fuck._

The visions let up for a moment after a particularly visceral disembowelment. Grunting, he propped himself against a flesh-covered wall and pondered how and if he could live even as the undead organism tried to consume him.

It’d been five hours since all this started; lasting that same length again was impossible. The Necromorphs weren’t even the main issue – he could probably find an obscure closet as shelter. No, his madness would do him in. Five more hours of cognizance would bring horrors too great to bear. Hard to believe the Shadow Man could wreck reality any worse.

But what if he wasn’t aware? What if he could evade those hours in unconsciousness? Perhaps the Marker would be unable to access his mind, and he could hibernate through the danger in safety. It would probably end in his death, but it was the only plan he had. The question was whether he deserved to live. His mind drifted inexorably towards the fact that he might have doomed humanity, a notion that would’ve made him vomit if there was anything left in his stomach.

Again, perhaps Gabe and Lexine had eliminated the threat of Nathan’s animate corpse, but e didn’t dare hope anymore. To him, he would be the greatest monster in history for what he did if anyone was left alive to tell it! That doubt also dragged him forward like another rotting carcass. Even as the desire to surrender and be done with it came from within and without him, he had to find out what he’d wrought. If he made it back to Sol and found it overrun with zombies, he’d throw himself out the airlock and take his place as Hell’s greatest champion. But if all was fine… well, maybe he could find some way to live again.

Therefore, he peeled himself off and continued towards the Medical Deck through the crimson mist. Once there, he could put himself in cryo or maybe find some medical stasis tech. Even as he thought this, it seemed ludicrous at best. He had no idea how to use such technology. His most likely bet was to find some sedatives and ingest enough to knock him out but not kill him. So what if he played with fire? He already burned.

One more thing. He reached into his pocket and donned Sam’s Marker necklace. It was cracked and broken, just like him. He hated the thing, but it seemed only right to perish with a mark of shame around his neck.

A skittering sound jarred him awake, and he whirled around with the Line Gun in his trembling hands. He exhaled so much and so quickly that the scrubbers in his RIG couldn’t keep up, creating a haze of water vapor on the inside of the visor.

Something was there – really there, not just in his own head. He stood and waited for it to emerge, even as his legs wanted to run. Better to get this over with now than risk this turning into another crazy chase. Therefore, he merely observed drops of water flow down the glass.

That’s when it scraped from a shadowed corner into a pool of red light, making his antsy stomach turn. While not the most horrifying Necromorph he’d encountered, this one was… uncanny. Possessed a number of animalistic traits, but the consciousness behind it seemed more.

Its spindly gray legs and arms were smoother and lither than most; no major cuts or anything. Each foot ended in two foot-long, muscular toes that resembled a kangaroo’s. The hands were tipped with three wicked talons of the same length, which could easily tear out his organs. The rib cage had split open, revealing a hollow cavity within. The now unnecessary organs were repurposed into muscle save the lungs, which looked intact. Glimmering rib tips poked out from the flesh, providing a fish-like quality.

Its head was perhaps strangest of all. The cranium reshaped into a dense, bony surface. _Wonder what that’s for. _The lower jaw ruptured into two flared mandibles like a spider, an impression reinforced by the sunken eyes.

All four radiated like soft yellow pinpricks. Unlike the glassy surface of other Necromorphs, this one seemed… deeper. Maybe it was his mind playing tricks, but between that and its defensive posture, the thing looked more intelligent than the average zombie.

He raised his Line Gun, but it ducked behind a corner before he could pull the trigger. Curtis didn’t dare continue his walk, so he waited. It peeked around every few seconds, revealing only its eyes and claws, which it creepily wrapped around the edge. It clicked and chattered its mouthparts, either to unnerve him or to call reinforcements. Maybe both.

Attempting to drag it into the open, he halfheartedly raised his right hand and activated the kinesis module. Nothing; the pallid ray of subatomic particles was unable to seize it. He didn’t know the entire story, but most tactile gravity manipulation didn’t work on living beings. Something about cellular biology being too volatile? That must have held true for Necromorphs.

_Fuck this. _He stepped back while keeping the tool trained on this thing.

That’s when it made its move.

It wailed like a banshee before charging fast as lightning. Now he knew why it needed the lungs! He was too tired to curse, and his hands twitched as it barreled towards him, bony arms tucked behind its back both for aerodynamics and to protect them. He shot at the legs, yet it leapt over the bolt and plowed its head into him.

He understood its shape as it knocked the wind out of him and smashed his head into the bulkhead: a battering ram on speed. The padding absorbed most of the force, at least. Would have obliterated his sternum in not for that. A grating sound rang out as deflected a talon that nearly impaled him through the head with his forearm.

Then it was atop him, perched upon his chest like a gigantic crow as he lay on the ground. Neither of them expected to be in such a situation, for both stared at each other a moment.

Its four eyes burned with… he didn’t know what. Wasn’t like anything he’d seen from these things. The closest he could describe it was as “hunger”. He wouldn’t let this monster have its fill. Adrenaline pumped through his blood as he countered.

He punched up, clocking whatever its lower jaw became. It shrieked and recoiled as he lunged for the Line Gun. Before he could shoot, though, it vanished into a nearby vent. Much as he wanted to be relieved, terror still lingered in his gut while he hustled away.

This wasn’t over yet.

…

The drone stalked her prey through the ducts. So nice of the mortals to provide them – they were highways for her kind, just wide enough for two her size or smaller to pass each other free of prying eyes. The only trouble was making sure neither of them skived each other with blades, claws or whatever else. Cramped, but her species was nothing if not adaptable.

She didn’t encounter any of her kin here, though. This appeared to be an older, more automated region of the craft, or so she gleaned via glimpses through cracks and slots. More dangerous for predator and prey – the grinding, crushing machines destroyed living and dead flesh alike. She needed to tread lightly.

It went insane, at least, which made for easier (if less sporting) prey. That much was clear from its incomprehensible muttering and the fact that it jumped at every shadow. That was yet another proof of mortal inferiority; the Marker revealed their mental frailty. It didn’t exactly drive them mad, though. It reflected their own fears, guilts and doubts back, creating a mental mirror that could not be ignored.

Its hand shot to the throat as it began choking itself – the ghosts of the past wouldn’t be so easily ignored. “I’m… sorry,” it gasped, collapsing against a grate on the wall: a sluice, probably an entrance to the water treatment system. The smell of sewage wafted up, heightening her suspicion. “Sam… Nathan… Nicole,” it coughed, still throttling itself.

The words meant nothing to her. And yet… no, it was nothing. Just her imagination. The Red God assured her of that. Her target moped mere feet away in an alcove.

Dropping into a crawl, she silently scuffed closer. The human buried its head in its palms and produced a strange gurgling sound. What was the purpose of such a thing? It screamed weakness… which the human was, but still.

She needed to be quick. Charge out, kill him, the end. His weapon lay beside him: a fearsome thing that nearly tore her legs off. That might have been the end of her if it connected – every cell in her body was a receptacle for the Red God’s glories. Lose enough of them to dismemberment, and the lifeforce sustaining her very being would fizzle out.

She lowered her head and readied herself. From this distance, she could hear his beating heart, something she was glad to be without. The human did nothing but cry – almost too easy. Then the axe fell.

She sprang forward and drove her head into its stomach within a quarter second. It never knew what hit it.

Neither did she as the grating they were on failed, sending them plummeting into the dark.

…

Curtis screamed all the way down the shaft, the sound occasionally blurring as his head smacked against obstructions. He managed to grab the Line Gun, which he blindly fired into the dark, and its bursts of plasma left red-hot strips along the sides all the way down. These framed the silhouette of a four-eyed demon, which slashed at the air inches away just as blindly as he shot.

Then he was underwater.

He thought it another hallucination at first and expected to see the Black Marker… but even his visions didn’t make him do somersaults as they swept him away! His head broke the foul liquid, and the smallest bit that got in his mouth confirmed his suspicion – he’d fallen into the filtration system, essentially the ship’s sewer. Though dense, the RIG was far lighter than his old one, allowing him to just barely tread water.

The stalker bobbed up several feet away, looking appropriately like a giant shit. _Stalker. It’s followed me this long. _“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” he screamed, not caring that the thing couldn’t understand him. Most Necromorphs he dealt with in seconds, but this one kept coming back to ruin his day! Almost felt nice to have a nemesis.

Its mandibles trembled and rubbed together, making him grunt. Looked afraid. _As well it should be. _A whirring sound rose above that of churning water, which made him glance “downstream”. His upset stomach dropped. He understood the fear now.

A giant filtration fan sliced the water dozens of times a second, probably breaking down larger pieces of waste or other things people flushed down the toilets. There was no walkway, and the bottom of the tunnel was too deep for his grav-boots to cling to. It’d shred him to bits.

One of Curtis’ few pleasures as a child was going to the sea. Nobody to bother him, and the North Carolina Hubs was a coastal region. The rampant urban pollution, massive failing turbines from desperate attempts to harness wave power and EarthGov proclamations that the Atlantic Ocean was “unfit for human life” all meant little to him, and he swam with abandon.

Frankly, it was miraculous he hadn’t been chopped to death by the hydroelectric machines that riddled the coast or been eaten by some mutated sea creature. Maybe he’d get cancer in a few decades from it, but for now, he used everything he remembered to paddle away from the death fan. His lungs, legs and arms burned as he kicked and fought. The noise got louder, louder, louder still.

His broken brain flashed back to the first person he saw succumb to madness, body shredded by mining equipment as they were pulled into space.

_Let go! LET GO! _The Shadow Man bellowed louder than ever before, overwhelming the grinding machine, and Curtis really wanted to listen. A second of pain, and then it would all be over. Some spark within him just barely let him resist. Was it his own will or something else? He began to wonder… but the result was the same.

He kicked and thrashed and did everything he could to not let shit hit the fan (and that awful joke almost killed him itself) until his stasis module recharged. That was his only chance.

The Necromorph similarly flailed a few feet away, and he wanted nothing more than to shoot it. For the moment, he’d have to coexist with this strange creature that also fought for its “life”. That pissed him off. _It doesn’t care that whoever it used to be would have liked to keep living, too. _He’d deal with it soon enough.

The grinder nipped at his feet as the monitor on his wrist regained its azure hue. Now or never! Flipping onto his back, he stuck out his hand and desperately kicked back once more. Energy arced from his palm like lightning, ripping time asunder as it seized the fan in a sickly glow. Now slowed to a crawl, he surrendered to the current and let himself be washed away, sucked between the blades. Never in his life did he expect to be so relieved about being submerged in human waste. Though when the alternative was horrible death… _Death._

That word sparked his brain back to awareness. His vision flitted around the currents and capillaries for signs of the Stalker. He didn’t see it as his soiled helmet-mounted flashlight illuminated plenty of other disgusting sights. _Maybe I lost it. The monster, anyway._

Until he felt a tug on his ankle, at least.

…

The drone was proud of her species’ propensity for environments that humans found unlivable, from the vacuum of space to hazardous chemicals to extreme cold. Yet more proof of superiority over a race that could only survive within very limited conditions.

Clawing through feces and urine shook that feeling slightly. She didn’t possess a stomach anymore, but it somehow turned. This was the most disgusted any of her kin had ever felt – she reached into the multitude of minds which prowled above and below her and found little approaching it. That wasn’t important, though. What mattered was that she find and dispatch the human. She lost it for a moment as she dug through the slime.

Then plasmatic crackle followed by the sound of boiling water reached her, and she swam towards it, peeking her top set of eyes above the waste.

It thrashed a few dozen feet away, firing its weapon into the sewage, which steamed around him from the great heat. It doubtlessly thought she was beside or beneath him, though she couldn’t say whether this was a hallucination or mere paranoia. Regardless, it was… _amusing _to watch.

_Amusement… _She didn’t quite recall what that was. Something pleasant she used to feel that wasn’t connected to the expansion of the Red God’s influence. The notion of her deity not watching over and sheparding her unsettled, so she pushed the alien feeling aside and silently sloshed forward. Wasn’t easy, but the human was too busy screaming and shooting to notice.

Suddenly, the noise stopped, replaced by a series of angry clicks. Out of ammunition. Perfect.

She dove forward and shoved him into the muck, tearing away with vicious claws. It attempted to fight back, but its punches were like pitiful bug bites… as were her slashes. The thick, viscous liquid slowed her attacks to the point they couldn’t pierce its artificial exoskeleton. A couple hit later and it sank deeper into the liquid to evade her. Clever.

She was so focused on this that it came as a surprise when the current abruptly stopped. This was the line’s end – a chamber riddled with more of filth. The human emerged on the opposite end of the canal. They looked at each other as they clambered onto the bank. At last, she had her prize.

…

This was the end. No ammo, no escape, no second chances.

As he and the Necromorph circled each other, he was tempted to reminisce on the “good old days”. That’s what people did when they were about to die, right? The highlights of their lives unfurled before them like old movies? It happened to him when he first encountered one of these things. But he wouldn’t let that happen again – it’d only cause more pain. What was there to remember? The pitiful existence of a selfish, shallow man who loved nobody and might have committed omnicide. That’s why he got stuck with the Shadow Man.

That didn’t mean he would go down without a fight. He raised his fists like this was another barroom brawl, ready to dish out a few blows to this monster’s ugly face before it inevitably gored him. The Shadow Man licked its chops; the prospect of him dying excited it like nothing else.

The Stalker raised its head, allowing four yellow eyes to pierce the darkness. Though more “alive” than the others, it was no less focused on killing. Made him hate it all the more – the others didn’t have a choice in the matter. Maybe this one didn’t, either, but it certainly _seemed _more intelligent. Reminded him of the Hunter that Nicole talked about, one of the few individuals that retained some semblance of sentience.

Then it charged, stumbling as its inhuman feet sank into the muck and screaming that woodwind wail. He waited as it barreled forward before leaping out of the way; it tried to compensate, but the ground was too slick, and it slid right past.

He activated the kinesis module and fumbled for _anything _solid to use as a weapon. The Necromorph skidded to a halt as he hopelessly flailed, finally locating a severed Slasher blade; must have fallen in and been shredded by the fan. Caught in the pale gravity beam, he yanked it towards him as his foe sprinted forward again.

He fired the cleaver. It swung its wicked claws. Both hit.

The blade clipped its right shoulder, which threw it off balance, compounded with a kick to the stomach. The talons slashed his leg, luckily deflecting off one of the metallic layers. This reminded him of that Colosseum that used to be in Rome. Long ago consumed by the ocean, but he’d read about it – a place where great warriors of old tested their battle prowess. Two men entered, one man left. _Wait, no, that’s from –_

The ground quaked before they could do anything else, and the vibrations sunk him to his waist in the, well, _waste. _The Stalker was lighter, so it was only engulfed to the knees. They both dug themselves out, momentarily putting animosity aside to figure out what the Hell was going on. Curtis’ mind went to the usual suspects – asteroid impact, engine misfire, etc.

None of those explained why the walls closed in. A hallucination? Must have been. He’d seen this before… but they noisily ground closer, piling up mounds of swill as they approached. Ah. They were in a waste compactor. Their bodies would be compressed into a small cube and either thrown into the reactor or jettisoned into space. Didn’t matter much to him.

The Necromorph also took notice. Its eyes glowed with… _fear? _That’s what it looked like. The idea that it felt terror raised his spirits. At least he wouldn’t be the only one who died afraid.

He slumped down, again ready to perish. Yeah, he was terrified, yet there was nothing to be done. No exits or escapes that he could see. His biggest (yet far from only) regret was being out of ammo. Would have preferred blowing his brains out to being crushed alive. A painful death was the least he deserved for causing the possible extinction of humanity, though.

The Necromorph took all this much harder, sprinting around the room and braying while the surfaces drew closer. It hammered at the walls, actually making a bit of a dent with its freakish claws and battering head. Not enough, though – there just wasn’t time.

“Hey!” he shouted to the monster over the din. It turned to look at him, looking fearful as ever. Of what? Failure? “Death”? How little he knew. “I don’t think we’re getting out of this one! Sit down and wait for it to be over!”

A shiver ran down his back; he acted as callous and nihilistic as the Shadow Man. He didn’t even know why. Why interact with these twisted abominations at all? To his shock, it heeded his advice. With what might have been a sigh, it reluctantly sat on its haunches and sank into the muck. Did it understand him?!

Less than a minute left to go. The parts accelerated, or perhaps they just accumulated more shit as they plowed inexorably nearer. His immediate surroundings shifted, sending him onto his back. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, perplexed by what he saw.

There was a grate of some kind up there. A ventilation duct or perhaps an area for excess slop to overflow. In other words, a way out.

He leapt up, eyes flying around. No ladders or anything. Stasis and kinesis wouldn’t hold the walls back. If only he was taller! Salvation was just out of reach. _Out of reach._

His gaze drifted towards the sulking Necromorph. The thought of asking for assistance made him at once ashamed and idiotic. Even if this thing wasn’t a murderous monstrosity (which it was), could it comprehend “help”? In the end, though, self-preservation overrode humiliation. He would never live this down, so perhaps it was good that he’d be dead soon.

He walked over; it didn’t seem to notice him over the screeching. “Uh, excuse me! I need your help with something!” Every word coming out of his mouth felt _wrong_, but how in the world was he supposed to address a zombie?

The thing didn’t scare him in that moment despite its horrifying visage. Well, it did, but the alternative was worse. The expression on its broken face was one of confusion, which he couldn’t blame it for. Still creeped him the fuck out that he could read the emotions of something so inhuman.

He pointed towards the ceiling vent. The monster looked puzzled for a moment before putting all the pieces together, leaping to its feet in triumph.

“Neither one of us is tall enough to reach it without the other’s help!” he stammered in case it decided to eviscerate him right then and there.

It begged to differ, leaping into the air a few times to try and grab the lip. He burned. Why would he expect anything less than it leaving him here to die? He would have tackled the creature and made them both perish together, yet its plan already failed. Though the spring-like feet seemed perfectly adapted for leaping, the fetid ground was a poor surface for jumping. Its claws missed the rim by mere inches every time.

Perhaps 30 more seconds. The smell now made him gag; even with the helmet air scrubbers, particles were being forced into an ever-smaller area. He sealed the suit and switched over to the built-in five-minute air supply. Might as well perish without a horrible odor in his nose. Out of desperation, he activated the voice filter and yelled.

“Last chance! Do you want my help or not?!”

The booming, imposing voice practically shook the ever-shrinking chamber and snapped the monster out of its rut. It glared at him a moment before bowing its head in… what, shame?

_Oh. _Only then did Curtis realize it possessed the same conflicted feelings about this. Maybe Necromorph “society” despised the idea of getting help from humans just as much as he hated the inverse. Neither of them would get out of this with their pride intact. Seemed self-preservation trumped shame in both their cases, because it subtly nodded. _Remembers how to do that, at least. _He then used kinesis to yank off the cover, which plopped into the sewage before sinking out of sight.

Much as he wanted to be the first one out, that simply wouldn’t happen. Fast and agile as this thing was, it didn’t look all that physically strong. Not enough to lift him and his RIG, at least. He would have to boost the monster up to the vent and hope beyond hope that it’d actually honor its end of the unspoken bargain instead of skittering away while he was pulverized.

Cringing, he knelt down in the muck and allowed it to astride his shoulders. Giving a zombie a piggyback ride reddened his face with humiliation, though that was dented by the six foot-long hooks wrapped around his head for balance. It could snap his neck with a single motion if so inclined. He’d never felt Necromorph flesh before: slimier than he expected, though at least his skin didn’t have to touch it.

He grunted and staggered up. The walls were close now, and he stumbled as the terrain shifted under his feet. The sole light from his helmet was eclipsed now and again by the beast’s shadow. _Almost there. _They’d only have time to try this once. His legs strained against the goo as the Stalker shakily stood on his shoulders. It sprang up, just barely hooking its claws on the corner and worming into the vent.

Curtis blindly prayed that it returned the favor.

…

She gazed into the pit. The human within would die, compacted into jelly and likely used as fertilizer for the Hydroponics deck. How tragic that it would be used to nurture frail, weak beings instead of becoming one of her brothers; it saved her, after all, even if deigning to its aid humiliated.

Ah, well. Nothing to be done except continue the hunt. She’d at least eliminated a threat. The Red God was most pleased with her actions.

Yet she felt _conflicted, _a sensation uncommon for her kind. Each of them was assigned a role and a proper form to carry it out. There was no room for doubt when saving the universe. Most followed orders admirably and without question. Why couldn’t she? Why was she the weak strand in this web of life?

“Help me up!” it exploded, shaking its fist in the air. “You agreed to help me, you fucking liar! Why did I actually think you would?!” The words brought her to her senses. Waste engulfed him up to his chest. The walls were seconds away from crushing him. “At least there’s no one left for you to kill!”

Her mandibles chattered. Everything it said was correct. The Red God taught her to be many things: strong, brave, focused and a true soldier of Convergence. It certainly didn’t teach her to be a deceiver and renege on her oaths. Compounded with the fact that she’d gotten them into that situation to begin with and that the human saved her…

It was now completely cover in shit except for his raised hand, which had its middle finger raised in some strange gesture she might have once known. Against her better judgement, she leaned out as far as she could and gently grasped it with her talons before hauling it up. The vent rumbled as the walls all crashed together a moment later, impact fading into oblivion.

** _ KILL. _ **

_Why? The human devised a way out and nearly defeated me. It is an honorable warrior._

** _ CONVERGENCE DEMANDS IT. _ **

Of course. Convergence was far more important than the desires of any individual – once it came, she and all her kin would _truly _be one. For now, their minds were intertwined with that of the Red God and each other, but once it came, they would all be one and the same. God would supersede them entirely, engulfing them with its light. She needed to share this gift, even if the mortals didn’t understand it.

The human looked perplexed by her conversation with the divine. To it, it was nothing but inane chattering. She said the same about its dialogue with memories.

Still, she’d at least wait until they were out of these vents to kill it. That’d be more considerate for everyone. There was an exit nearby, which she burst out of. He emerged as well, drinking in her bared talons.

…

The time came for it to betray him. Curtis honestly wasn’t angry at this point. It _did _save him. That was all they agreed to. It was more honor than he expected these things to be capable of, though that didn’t change the fact death stared him in the face.

The Stalker splayed its six freakish spurs, each capable of mangling his body in new and creative ways. It looked strangely conflicted, however; its mandibles were pursed in what might have been a frown, and its lungs rose and fell despite the fact it no longer needed to breathe. Muscle memory?

“If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with,” he demanded.

It hesitated before opening its mouth. He expected a shriek followed by painful death, but it instead exuded a strange grinding noise.

“Y-you… fought well,” it stuttered. 

Its alien mandibles struggled to form English, and its decayed windpipe and vocal cords made it sound like someone with a bad case of strep throat. That didn’t take away from what he’d just heard. And he _did _hear it; his own atrophying mind could never cook up such a hallucination.

Curtis’ jaw was on the floor. “You – you can _talk?!_”

“Yes,” it answered, still stumbling over its words. Seeing such a fearsome creature so self-conscious was bizarre. “Most… of my f-family are more… _predisposed _to the Red God than I. It is there more, and they… are less. Besides, we do not r-require words to communicate.”

It used to be a woman, he realized from the voice. Though torn, it was distinctly female. That was literally the only way he could tell. Well, maybe from the wider hips. He shuddered at the thought of regarding this thing as sexual or gendered in any way.

So the Marker had more control over some Necromorphs than others, which retained more intelligence? How the Hell did it work? Were they telepathic to some extent, considering the mental link? Lexine kind of was. Really, this would have fascinated him were it not for the shock… and the fact there was one thing he really wanted to get out of the way.

“The thing’s not a god, it’s an evil rock,” he spat. He didn’t know why he was so angered by its (her?) religious beliefs, considering all the other things he could have raged about.

It pointed a massive talon at his neck in what he thought was a threat. “I beg to differ. It… created me. Us. Do you not worship it like others of your kind?” Only once he followed the path down did he realize it wasn’t intimidation at all – he forgot all about Sam’s necklace.

“Uh, no,” he muttered, stuffing the thing back in his pocket along with the Enigma mask. And he had to admit, the Marker bringing them into existence was a good reason to worship it. Didn’t mean he liked it. “Anyway, you said I fought well?”

“Indeed. You deserve a… warrior’s death rather than something so humiliating. I look forward to soon calling you brother.”

He wanted to tell it to eat shit and die, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to. His last moments were spent thinking of ways to escape, but nothing presented itself. All he could do was wait for death. He willed himself not to shed any tears. He wasn’t afraid for himself, though – not knowing what became of humanity would haunt him even in the grave. It nodded and raised its claws.

“I will make it fast.” Before it could, though, the intercom crackled to life again.

“A-a-a-attttt_ttttt_ention, ladies and gentlemen. An unshielded radiation spike is emanating from the Ore Storage Deck! Engineers have been dispatched to rectify the situation. Thank you!”

That made sense. Aegis VII was rich in radioactive rare-earth elements like thorium, uranium and promethium. Harmless enough at normal concentrations, but bunched together in a single room, the deadly waves they threw off became much, much worse. Even though the Ishimura only mined for an hour, thousands of tons of the stuff floated around without shielding having been implemented.

Most people would have dreaded this fact, but Curtis saw in it a chance to survive, no matter how slim. He doubted he could give this thing the slip or kill it in a surprise attack, but he might be able to stay its hand long enough for help to arrive. Again, probably a pipe dream, but it was the only chance he had.

“We need to fix that,” he said while the Necromorph still processed the message. While outwardly calm, his innards were in turmoil. Could it understand the situation’s danger? Even if so, did it care?

“Why?”

“Because radiation is as dangerous to you as it is to us.” OK, he didn’t actually know whether that was true. In fact, it might not have been, considering they could survive in all manner of hazardous environs. Still, he knew radiation destroyed living cells – even though Necromorphs weren’t “alive” in any way he knew, Nicole said their cells must still have been active so they could move and receive signals from the Marker, plus the fact kinesis didn’t work on them.

It didn’t seem convinced, though. “Even if you speak the truth, the Red God will rectify it. It needs no help from the likes of you.”

“You did.” It twitched in anger. Him and his big mouth. Struggling to compensate, he continued, “No offense, but the thing seems pretty single-minded. I’ve only seen your kind killing, not doing maintenance. If you don’t fix this… Convergence is in danger.” He didn’t know what that meant to it, but it must have been really important, considering how much it was tossed around. _Probably not the “becoming whole” thing the Unis think._

Its four eyes lit up, though it still seemed to struggle. “Well… you may possess some expertise that I do not. I suppose your death can wait a little while.” He didn’t dare tell it that he was a mere miner with no technical knowledge – would have been a death sentence. Fortunately, it didn’t ask.

Mandibles pressed against the side of his helmet, making his entire body go tense. “Betray me and you will wish for death, warrior.”

It stood behind him as he trudged forward, looking for any excuse to slip away and run.


	12. Keeping It Clean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, readers! Thanks for coming back. I know I open most of my chapters like this, but I like to express my support. I don't think enough authors vocalize how much their fans mean to them. To everyone reading this – you make all my effort worthwhile.
> 
> The finished art is finally in! All credit goes to SARICHOW at FurAffinity, the great artist who did my ASaF cover. Check it out on my DeviantArt account, ANINVISIBLEMAN, for a far higher-quality version than this website offers. I really like it; Curtis and Nicole holding hands after some great battle is an image I love.
> 
> The fic also just crossed 100,000 words. It's one of only four Dead Space stories to ever do so. That's incredible to me, especially since there's so much left. I hate to sound boastful, but I'm nearly sure this'll be the longest DS story ever when everything is done. We'll cross that bridge when we get there, though. I'm not celebrating yet. This is another short chapter that again primarily establishes Curtis and Nicole's new relationship. Tell me if things are going too fast.
> 
> …there's one other thing. I don't know how many of you will care, but this is important to me, so I wanted to share it. Recently (last December), I converted to Islam after years of serious consideration and soul-searching, as you may have seen on my profile page. Yeah, I have kind of a crazy life outside this website. Maybe that makes some aspects of the story like Curtis struggling with an "alien" religion more relatable. That's it. Just wanted to put that out there.
> 
> Thanks to CRIMSON AN'XILEEL, GOD, ANCIENTOFDAYZ, PHOENIXGUY, DERPYSAUCE, PUZZLEMASTER1998, V-0-I-D, MR. BEAVER BUTTINGTON and LEVI for reviewing.

**6 Hours Post-Outbreak**

Curtis still stood straight as an arrow as claws bored into his spine. The Stalker wouldn't let him move more than a foot away with its left "hand" gripping his shoulder, breathing in his ear as its lungs intermittently sputtered, bloating out of its ribcage and pressing against his back. He hallucinated a few times about it sinking jagged, irregular teeth into his jugular. Hot, sticky blood poured down his chest as he burbled in pain before the image evaporated. If the monster noticed his odd behavior, it remained silent on the matter. The Shadow Man reveled in it, of course, persistently goading him on.

He wondered how other Necromorphs would react. Would they sense he was a "prisoner of war" and let him pass unimpeded, or would primal bloodlust make them hostile despite one of their own kind holding him hostage?

That wasn't an issue yet, though, for their only force in this seemingly endless hall was an ample supply of Corruption, blooming from the vents like flowers. Might have been the undead equivalent of such, considering the Stalker stopped a few times to inspect them. Such behavior elicited a mixture of revolt, anger and terror. _Yeah, a real garden in here._

A realization slowly dawned throughout this journey as the squeak of metal boots and fleshy feet resounded ever onward. There were thousands of people aboard, but the ship was honeycombed with hundreds of miles of subdecks and tunnels. The vast majority of the ship was empty.

Didn't give him much hope of finding more survivors, though, considering how ill-frequented all these locales were. In fact, it freaked him out more. Who knew what was hidden in these halls? His fractured mind wandered back to all the spacer legends he'd heard about the Ishimura over his career. Being the most famous starship in modern history, it naturally accrued tall tales: troves of gold and platinum ore hidden in a secret chamber… and less pleasant ones, like a serial killer once being among the crew and killing dozens before he was caught. The bodies were never found, according to the stories.

Curtis shook his head to rid it of these imaginary tales. Something stranger and more terrifying than any story stood behind him, digging razors into his spine. Another flash of a black obelisk made him shudder and nearly vomit. His brain felt like it was melting in his skull; blood dripped from his nose to his lips. His dark doppelganger cringed, as well.

He desperately wanted to consider the creature behind him a mere animal. It'd be far easier to betray it (which he inevitably would) if it was a stupid sack of necrotic meat rather than a sentient being with things like desires and religious beliefs. Still, the silence exacerbated the Shadow Man's words as it walked beside him. He would have had a breakdown if he was claustrophobic.

_See how devoted this slave is? It happily serves the Marker. The Red one, I mean. You needn't be afraid; your death will mean more than your life. You can find peace within Convergence._

Curtis pursed his bloody lips and bit his tongue. These claims tempted despite coming from an evil shade. The Stalker seemed happy, even proud, to follow the "Red God's" commands. That was probably brainwashing the Marker did to ensure its servants' loyalty, however. He also wouldn't die completely. Part of his conscious would still exist – maybe without his memories (this thing didn't seem to have them), but he didn't have many worthwhile ones to begin with. The closest were thoughts of his friends, and they were all dead now.

His stomach dropped as he realized he seriously considered becoming a Necromorph. It'd be objectively better than remaining human. Hell, the Marker might bequeath him some important position, considering his role in wiping out humanity. Being an undead general in a necrotic army actually might actually be a better existence than his current dead-end life. All he needed to do was ask it to kill him.

Before he decided, though, he wanted to converse with his captor: see if it seemed sane and ask what being a zombie felt like. His biggest terror was how much the process would warp his mind; even if he came out of it without the Marker puppeting his every action, he might be so changed that he found blooming flesh and reanimated corpses beautiful. Would the Ishimura become a lush paradise through his new eyes? Taking a deep breath, he pretended to introduce himself to a normal human woman and not a lanky demonic velociraptor.

"So… what's your name?"

"I have none," its hoarse voice said into his ear. "I used to once, but that is past. Now I am merely a drone, a servant of the Red God like many others."

Real fucking helpful. He fought to keep both annoyance and fear out of his voice. A less stubborn man would have flipped on some music, yet he pressed the matter and hoped his insistence didn't piss it off. "I have to call you something. I can't communicate with thoughts and feelings like you."

It paused in its tracks, all remaining neurons trying to piece together a moniker. Curtis would have taken the opportunity to run, but there was nowhere to flee to. The hallway stretched infinitely on. "Call me 'Drone'."

Curtis resisted the urge to smack his head. If this thing didn't want to forge its own identity, fine. "Nice to meet you, Drone," he said, nearly gagging on the saccharine words. "My name is Curtis."

…

_Curtis._

The name evoked half-dead memories that brushed the edges of her mind. It was probably nothing – the situation's strangeness or the stress that came from disobeying the Red God's orders (even if it was for its own good). A leaden curtain prevented them from breaking through.

Still, it was nice to have conversation. Her brethren weren't the most talkative sorts. Neither was she, but variety was good. She racked her brain for a while, trying to find a good or interesting question to ask him. Not something related to the Red God, though – it was clearly a touchy subject, and she tried to maintain some degree of tact.

"What is your favorite food?" She vaguely remembered the sensation of eating: organic matter sliding down her throat to bolster the mortal form. Rather disgusting. Receiving sustenance from the Red God directly was far better, freeing the entire digestive tract to be converted into muscle tissue.

The human's head slowly swiveled around. Confusion shone through despite the stolid metal mask it wore. "It's cliché, but probably pizza. Do you remember pizza?"

"Vaguely. It tasted… good, I think." Yes, she recalled the flavor and texture of cheese-covered dough, but it did nothing for her emotionally. Whoever she used to be liked it; that meant little. The human attempted to guile her into distraction, yet she didn't mind. It demonstrated cunning and craftiness… but not as much as her own. Its intelligence strengthened her resolve. It would certainly join the Red God willingly if she demonstrated the superiority of her species. That was only right for such a worthy foe.

Distraction got the better of her. She _should _have sensed one of her kin nearby, but she didn't until he emerged from a nearby vent, wailing – one with a large, luminous pustule on his arm. Curtis yelped and instinctively reached for the weapon on its back. She would have intervened were it not out of ammunition.

Her brother's explosive ulcer was half raised when he noticed her, which made him lower it.

Waves of confusion flowed from him to her, and his split face wilted in doubt. This was an affront to everything the Red God stood for. Why did she not share glorious Convergence?

_The human is facilitating aid. Stand aside. _These weren't the exact words she thought, but the effect of dozens of pheromones and sensations was roughly the same.

_Sister, what madness is this? Its kind cannot be trusted. _Pain, confusion and a hint of betrayal all assaulted her mind; her brother grieved. It was difficult for her not to listen between that and the Red God's orders… but they were so close to Ore Storage. _It will reject Convergence; they always do._

_This one will not. And if it does, I will force salvation. _Her brother turned towards Curtis, appraising the human with beady eyes. It didn't dare step move. She couldn't read the emotions of the living as she could the dead, but it didn't take an empath to see the terror in its quivering form.

_Our God does not look kindly upon failure. Still, I will trust your judgement, sister, _he thought before leaping back into the vent.

…

Curtis was floored. Nothing exploded, but it might as well have considering his shock. Drone stared and yipped at its comrade for a moment before it dutifully skittered off. No questions asked (as far as he could tell) nor doubt. Just unwavering trust in its family. That was almost certainly artificial, a product of their hive mind, but it was nonetheless beautiful.

He'd been alone for so long. A thousand voices would whisper in his mind if he became a Necromorph, and it sounded a lot more pleasant than what the Shadow Man had to say. He would never be lonely ever again. The only kicker was that he had to die first.

"Will that work all the time?" His voice sounded distant and hollow; it quivered with new fear. This Necromorph could call off the attacks of others. But if so inclined, it could sic its "family" on him as well. He supposed they all could, but a vocal one ordering his demise seemed so much worse.

"No. They are… like humans. Some are more stubborn than others, and the Red God is adamant in its distrust. If even one lashes out at you…" He thought this was another awkward pause, but its voice petered out and didn't return. Shaking, he continued the trek. His existence hung by a thread.

They arrived before too much longer. Curtis' legs trembled and burned from all the walking; even this lighter RIG couldn't undo hours of exhaustion. However, sleep was a distant dream, save the slumber of long death.

**ORE STORAGE DECK, **the floor read as they stepped from an endless hall into the tram hub. He doubted the system still operated, given how close to failure it was earlier. The lights here flickered but at least weren't scarlet.

He pulled up a map from his holo-projector to double check the floor layout, though he already knew it. This was the simplest of all decks, merely a foyer followed by a massive chamber – the biggest on the ship, a mile high and a mile wide. It'd make the Z-Ball court and engine room look like quaint cottages. Nothing less could hold the mass of a planet. _Yep, that looks right. _He flinched as the image was momentarily replaced by flashes of symbols and screaming, making him shake his head until the madness flamed out.

It was the Black Marker. More cryptic bullshit. He wouldn't put up with it, instead turning away as it threw its madness up all over the screen. He pivoted it over to the Drone, who looked at it nonchalantly, apparently unable to detect his insanity.

"You aren't impressed?" he asked, forcing his visions back. These things didn't build or even utilize technology. Most of them were too stupid to, and this one seemed almost resentful. It stumped him… though he also saw an opportunity to boast of human supremacy. He was the closest thing to an expert on Necromorph "culture" that existed, so he might as well own the title. He just hoped his questions wouldn't earn a claw through the visor. "What has your species done that even comes close to this bauble?"

It might have rolled its eyes before growling, "We… do not need technology. We feel and sense many things. If one of my brothers dies or finds danger, the rest of us know. You have your guns and RIGs. We need… neither. You hide your frailty with metal and wire. We do not. We are strong, and you are weak. We do not need to build because we are already perfect."

Talk about a punch to the gut. The Drone snatched all his confidence and shoved it up his ass. Instead of convincing him, though, it made his face burn, irritating the dried blood on his upper lip. Its mouthparts fluttered into a toothy grin; it knew it gained the upper hand in their intellectual war. The reasonable thing would have been to shut up and formulate a witty comeback for later use. Getting upstaged by a theropod zombie was anything but normal, however.

"You steal all your success!" he exploded, poking a finger into its ribs. A saner man would have dreaded provoking this thing. He wasn't sane anymore, he realized. Even this monster, once so terrifying, was reduced to human stature as he spat. "What are you made out of?! A human! You only exist because you took someone else's life! You're a fucking parasite – everything that makes you 'superior' comes from a dead woman, and you can tell your friends that, too! 'Perfect' my ass!"

It snarled, mulling over whether to cut his face off. He wouldn't have minded, still pressing his face into its flared mandibles.

"Go ahead. Kill me. Prove me right that you're nothing but an animal." The atmosphere turned to iron during this stare down. Its four yellow eyes burned through the visor. He had no idea what would come next. If it wanted to kill him, there was nothing he could do. His heart thudded, though no adrenaline came with it. His body was all out.

"I leave you to your ignorance," it growled. "After we repair this dilemma, I will kill you. Then you shall understand." It whirled around and stormed towards the storage area, daring him to follow. Again, the smart thing would have been to bail – this was the time. He silently cursed and trudged forward. He couldn't give up. This radiation really did threaten any other humans aboard. If there was a _chance_ of anyone else being alive, he needed to try and help them. He'd fucked up so many times over the past hours; if there was even a ghost of a chance that he could save people, he had to take it. Maybe Gabe's personality rubbed off on him.

The tables turned. He walked behind Drone, unable to keep his eyes off its spine, which bulged through its back. Each vertebra looked ready to burst out of the excoriated, translucent skin. Ugly as sin to him, but he had to admit it was a looker by Necromorph standards: no acid leaking out, and its body was roughly symmetrical. How he pondered such things when he was too tired to walk in a straight line baffled him.

Was his life really consumed so much by momentary carnal pleasures – sex, food and the like – that they confronted him in death? Apparently so. It made him ashamed… and also hungry. Then again, that went for most people who lived in this cold corporate universe. He shook his head and surveyed the area.

A good amount of Corruption grew here, but no ghouls in sight. No damage nor blood, either, though that brought him little hope. This deck was more automated than any other. Streams of gravitons and computers ferried ore back and forth instead of human beings. Whatever minimal staff members this deck used to possess were probably as dead as everyone else.

_What if they aren't? _He shot a glance to Drone, and his apathy turned back to terror. If it tried to maul any other humans, he'd turn on it without hesitation. The fact that it was sapient didn't change the fact that it wanted him and every other human dead… even if, again, that might have been better. What were the odds anyone would actually – he punched himself in the face. It hurt even through the mask and broke the train of thought. He screamed in his mind, as did several other voices.

_I'll make it!_

_ **YOU WILL NOT.** _

_ **DO NOT LISTEN TO MY BROTHER.** _

Another surge of red and black would have made him vomit if there was anything left in his stomach. Instead, he dry heaved, at which Drone stopped and stared. His brain was a battlefield of two eldritch entities, which made him indignant. It was like if eminent domain was declared on someone's property so a sports stadium could be built. Could the Black and Red Markers find nowhere else to fight their "war" or whatever the fuck?!

"You see the Black God, do you not?"

Drone had turned around to look at him as he bent over. "Yeah. You worship the Black Marker, too?" They must have had these religious notions inculcated in them from "birth".

It shook its head as it helped him up. "No. The Black God was… cast out. It does not believe in Convergence… at least not in this way." It gestured towards itself. The words would have made his heart race were he not so jaded.

So the Black Marker didn't like Necromorphs, either. Should have made clicked earlier, considering how it seemed so keen on assisting him (even if said encouragement didn't do much). What did it matter, though? Wasn't much help to him, being lightyears away at the bottom of the ocean. He knew it helped somewhat – visions of it drove the Shadow Man and other forms of dementia away – but he was still in the shit unless it somehow started disintegrating zombies.

He also wasn't sure he'd call it benign. Even if it considered its own intentions good (did sentient hoary space menhirs have intentions?), it was an eldritch entity maybe as old as the universe. That hardly meant humanity was safe, especially given the fact it was on Earth. And maybe this wasn't actually about Necromorphs at all – this might have been the equivalent of a family squabble, and the Black Marker chose him as a go-between to fuck with its "brother". It made his head whirl.

"By all rights, I should kill you now if you are its agent," it muttered, sharpening its claws with other talons. Death. He didn't know whether to welcome or dread it anymore. "Seeing as you seem to have no choice in the matter… I will put it aside."

Dread brewed in Curtis' stomach, not helped by a radiation counter in the corner of his RIG's HUD slowly ticking up. The poison already began to seep out. At last, they reached the massive door to the storage area, which he opened with a wave of his trembling hand.

…

Drone scanned the chamber, her mandibles fluttering with awe. She scarcely comprehended all this space. Her entire existence had been one of tight corridors and small rooms; they were the environs her form was tailored to. The person she used to be barely knew the open sky – this flesh was more adapted to sedentary existence. Still, it was a privilege to step outside that bubble, if only for a moment.

A shimmering field spread out a few paces in; that was where artificial gravity ended, and the universe reasserted itself. The line between nature and technology narrowed here.

She and Curtis stepped across, and she began to float away as she did. The sensation of weightlessness disturbed her; she wasn't nearly as adept in such climes as some of her brothers and sisters. Disoriented, she gouged her four clawed toes into the metal to prevent losing to the void. Well, the vault wasn't quite empty. Car-sized mineral spheres floated within, bouncing into each other and flying away. This chamber would be packed to them brim with them if the Ishimura completed its violation of the planet below.

One leisurely floated past several feet away, which drew the unanchored top half of her body towards it. Thousands of tons of ore were compressed into each one; that was the only way to cram a planet into a single room. It also meant that each one was massive enough to have its own gravity well. Between the spheres and wide zero-gravity chamber, the situation reminded her of something… something from her past life. She couldn't quite remember and didn't want to – that was no longer reality – but Curtis standing beside her didn't help.

"What is your plan?" she asked as they stepped back through the shielded door. They didn't want to spend more time around the toxic elements than needed. Even the short seconds spent within sizzled her skin.

It put a hand under its chin, deep in thought. "Well, this RIG has shielding, but only enough for a few minutes. If I'm in there too long, it'll start burning my organs. I don't know about you, but I saw another of your kind – a really big one – survive just fine in space. The radiation's not as bad there, but it must have been out for a few hours."

After another minute of puzzling, it unveiled its plan. "The suit has an integrated Geiger counter, and your senses are good enough to pick up radiation without one. There should be a cargo door or something. We'll find the dangerous minerals and space them through it. I might be able to find some thrusters or a RIG for you to be able to move around."

Made sense enough. She was impressed by his prowess; seemed bringing him along was indeed a boon. She possessed only one revision. "I do not… require technology. A 'RIG', as you call it, would merely impede me." With that, they entered the massive chamber again and the invisible fire pricked her muscle. She couldn't "fly" like he could, yet she still wanted to help. Couldn't have the human think itself superior, could she? However, her boast had been a mere bluff – she had no idea how she'd navigate this new world.

"You take the right side of the room. I'll do the left," Curtis said as they entered zero-gravity and she anchored herself in the metal.

The human deactivated its grav-boots and whirred away, a device on the exoskeleton clicking as it floated up to a particular chunk of ore. This it captured with its graviton beam and tossed to the room's "bottom", which was studded with small airlocks for discarding chaff or surplus. Made it look so easy.

She cracked her neck and knuckles, readying herself to do the same. Her maxilla formed a smile while the coming war played out in her mind. She didn't share his fancy technology and didn't want to. This was a battle between flesh and steel, a being ashamed of its biology versus someone who embraced it. This was her best (and maybe final) chance to display the superiority of undeath. Her legs coiled, and she sprang into the void, only slightly terrified as she realized it'd take several minutes to reach a solid surface if her aim was anything less than perfect.

Curtis could run away and flee Convergence like her brother warned. Self-preservation was a powerful instinct. Still, she trusted the human for some reason. A familiarity lingered at the back of her mind. She used to know him. That truth unsettled her deeply.

Her mark was true, and she landed atop a perfectly smooth silver sphere the size of a compact car that weighed several thousand tons. This gave it such an intense yet shallow gravitational field that she stood with no issues, but her head was noticeably lighter than her feet. It was a bizarre feeling of vertigo to be able to circle a "planet" within seconds, though she didn't easily get dizzy – kind of hard to without an inner ear structure.

She pressed her nose to the mineral and sniffed, though her stinging tissue already affirmed danger. It needed to be disposed of before it set the rest of her family alight with nuclear fire. And her, for that matter. She pointed herself at another metal orb, coiled her legs, and sprang into the void again.

The radioactive sphere was propelled towards the airlocks by her acceleration. Travelled as slowly as a snail because of its great mass, but there wasn't gravity or friction to slow its arc. _How do I know so much about physics and biology? _she again wondered, if only to distract from the tumbling space before her. The Red God taught her much, but not this. _I… this body… used to be a scientist._

This whole thing put her on edge. Was her mind that of an ascended human or an entirely new creation merely inhabiting its flesh? It shouldn't have been important; devotion to the Red God was all that mattered now. That's what she told herself. Didn't prevent memories' shadows from clawing at her "brain" (though the remains of that organ no longer housed her mind).

She landed on another perfect copper sphere and inhaled with superfluous lungs. This one lacked penetrating fire, so she angled away from the airlock and leapt again. Only several dozen more to go!

Time flowed differently in that expanse of chromatic orbs and slate sky. The collection of colored dots against a dull canvas evoked hazy visions of constellations and auroras. Silence was welcome and only interrupted by distant clinks of metal and the human buzzing around. She measured passing seconds with pain. Sizzling heat slowly built in her sinews. It began small but increased by the moment, saturating her with its corruption. Her form would be permanently damaged within minutes… as would the human's. She heard several proclamations from its exoskeleton about shields failing. Neither of them had much time.

The challenge continued. It was a dance; she would say if she knew nostalgia. Flesh versus metal. Living against dead. The burning and clinking quickened as they leapt and flew, circling the room and each other as each raced to prove themselves and their species better.

A gnawing grew in her gut, and not just from the radiation. This seemed familiar. The human… sensations of competition without gravity… they evoked another life. _Her _other life. How well did she used to know it?

Fatigue toxins built within her muscles as they neared the finish line. Spent and exhausted, she leapt to propel the final hunk of what might have been uranium down to the airlock. She and Curtis arrived on the opposite wall at almost the same time, looking intensely at each other. This didn't turn out how either of them wanted.

It was a tie.

Though tempted to grumble, she couldn't help but be impressed with the human's grit. He used machines to enhance his abilities, yes, but the plan was his alone. The two of them jumped one last time back to the entrance and the room's controls; it took minutes to drift the mile back, and the burning was now alarmingly intense.

"Radiation shields failing," Curtis' exoskeleton sputtered as he drifted beside her.

"I know, damn it!"

They finally landed, and it scrambled to work the controls. A rush of air was sucked from the room and into the vacuum of space through the opening portals, and the nearby metals with them. _That _was the true void, and these would be lesser stars within it. She collapsed backwards onto the ground, overcome with fatigue while the airlocks closed.

…

Curtis stood just shy of the zero-gravity zone, surveying the empty vastness as he panted. A job well done, if he said so himself. He looked over at the Drone, sprawled on the like a lounging cat or particularly strange modern art installation. How a zombie got tired was beyond him. The sight's ridiculousness nearly made him laugh.

This was his chance to escape. He'd assisted whatever humans, if any, still lived, taken yet another step towards atonement. The Necromorph would never catch up if he left now, though he could stasis it for good measure. It was the smart thing to do, even merciful! Meant he didn't have to "kill" a sentient being, evil though it was. That felt uncomfortably close to murder. Besides, it _did _help him. The radiation would have breached his RIG if he spent much longer collecting the metal. He'd be bleeding out the mouth by now without its assistance. Honestly, he was impressed with how she matched his technology with her own strength and ingenuity.

_She. Her. _He smacked his head a few times, trying to revert to the impersonal "it". _It _was a shambling corpse with slightly above-average intelligence. Any honeyed words or hints of happiness in this hellish limbo were merely machinations of the Marker designed to lull him into submission. He could let neither _it _nor the Shadow Man convince him death was better. _Though it does sound nice…_

Punching himself again, he was jarred aware by the Stalker's gravelly voice. "Why do you hurt yourself?"

Its flanged jaws were turned in genuine concern. Gave more of a shit about him than most humans ever did. "Why do you care? In fact, shouldn't you encourage it? Other members of your species are literal suicide bombers."

"But they die for a purpose," it retorted. "To hurt oneself without a plan in mind…" God, he didn't need another Gabe, getting all teary-eyed about suicide and all that. The sheer hypocrisy made him fume; it was OK for this thing to kill him, but he couldn't kill himself? Its own god encouraged people to end their lives!

_Wait a second. _If it disagreed with the Marker about something so enormous, perhaps it wasn't under its control as much as he thought. A seed of true sentience might survive within the weathered husk of a person… or this was another trick to make him lower his guard. _No, I can't be paranoid about everything. That'll kill me, too._

Really, though, the question now was what _wouldn't _kill him. Even chunks of ore weren't safe from turning murderous. The point was that he might be able to keep the Necromorph on his side. Insane? Maybe, but it was willing to work with him so far, and he only had to appease it for… he checked the time. Four more hours, assuming his assumptions were correct.

His adventures with Gabe, Nathan and all the rest decisively proved survival was easier in groups. He would have preferred other humans, but he bore few illusions about locating any; the comm channels were nothing but a salmagundi of automated announcements (the first meeting of book club has started!), warnings and a couple sporadic distress signals.

If he wasn't the only human alive, the number was certainly in the single digits. A zombie was the only possible company left. He'd rather be with it than alone. Well, not quite alone – the screaming in his brain would always keep him company.

It rose, and his spirits fell. Now he needed to convince it not to kill him.

…

They were back in the hallway, awash in artificial gravity and air saturated with the scent of her brothers. She was as grateful for these facts as she was that the fire in her veins began to subside; her cells were stouter than any human's and there were far fewer bodily functions the emissions could wreck, yet her nervous system would have been scorched after a couple more minutes in that cage. She owed Curtis, though the only thing she could give him was a quick death, unfortunately.

The human drooped against the wall, his mask peeling itself away. Finally, she saw the face, and it almost made her drop to her knees. There was no doubt about it. She _almost _remembered him.

_Him? _Yes. Her foe deserved more respect than such an impersonal pronoun conveyed. His face was only the impetus which confirmed it. Sunken and sallow, it appraised her with dead eyes, only a shadow of sanity remaining. He looked almost as dead as her. Still, some force kept him shambling forward, and she nearly shrank back.

"Are you going to kill me?" he finally asked. Without the helmet to mask his voice, it sounded thin and hollow; his lips threatened to crack with each syllable.

Her mangled insides were in tumult. It shouldn't have mattered what their relationship used to be. She was now a servant of something greater. If he really did used to be a friend, didn't she owe sharing this joy?

She raised a clawed hand, which quivered in the red light. _**DO IT, **_the Red God ordered. His eyes twisted shut as he waited for a new beginning. Her talons hung in the air for a moment before her arm flopped to her side. The Red God didn't speak. Didn't need to. The only thing that coursed through her cells was disappointment. _**SHAMEFUL.**_

But she couldn't do it. She… she _knew _him. The name "Curtis" was the first hint – it tickled something in the back of her brain. His behavior, mannerisms and words were the next clue. His face erased any doubt, conjuring a few faint memories. Only one was lucid enough to recognize in any detail, and even that was hazy.

He lay in a bed, groggy, while she stood over him. The walls were of eggshell and chrome, studded with life support machines. _The Medical Deck? _It must have been. That's where she began. Was she his doctor?

"Well?! Get it over with!" he demanded. His bloodshot eyes drilled into her, daring and pleading for his suffering to end.

She couldn't articulate words through the haze of pain, both physical and emotional. The Red God agonized her body as punishment for disobedience, sending her toppling to the floor. She moaned and wailed but didn't cry. She physically couldn't – her kind had no need for tear ducts. At that moment, she envied Curtis for still being able to express sadness and loss. If he was weak for it, how much more pitiful was she?

Two hands on her throbbing shoulders drew her from the stupor. Curtis stood over her, his face twisted in a grimace. He could have stomped her to death or run away… but he didn't. Why not? The sane thing would have been to lunge at him, turn him inside out and ardently pray for forgiveness. The Black God's influence over her also grew. No matter what she said, her words were no longer her own. Now _she _was sucked into this psychic clash.

"I want to... learn. About _me_."

"Uh, do you remember where you worked when you were alive?" He was still suspicious yet at least willing to hear her out.

"The Medical Deck. I'm almost certain."

Curtis' scarlet eyes glazed over for a moment as he lapsed into deep thought. "If I help you learn about your past, will you protect me?"

It was difficult to read his intentions through this corona of new, overwhelmingly negative emotions. Sensations the Red God long kept at bay – sadness, regret, disappointment – flooded back into her as signs of its displeasure. Self-preservation was undoubtedly the main facet. Yet something in his face suggested he may have supported her search.

"I… will."

With a subtle nod, the helmet once again formed around his head, and he offered a hand. Her heart would have raced if it still existed. His short, thin fingers wrapped around her massive bony talons as he hauled her up.

She thought about telling him that he seemed familiar – didn't he deserve to know if he was indeed her friend in another life? That would have been cruel, however. If she wasn't merely grasping at straws and he really did used to be a coworker, acquaintance or… _significant other? _She took in his form again before dismissing it. Someone else used to fill that void in her brain. The point was, it'd be heartbreaking for someone who cared about her to see her "twisted" into a "monster".

She needed neither his sympathy nor his pity, for she actually appreciated her new form. Memories and statistics about the human body welled up in her mind; she was stronger, faster and tougher. However, she did need his help.

Without looking at each other, the two struck off into oblivion once again.


	13. Emergency Stop

**7 Hours Post-Outbreak**

Curtis was astonished at how quickly he acclimated to Drone's presence.

He'd mostly forgotten about the animate corpse after the first few awkward minutes. Maybe insanity desensitized him, or he was just plain exhausted, but it didn't stand out so much anymore.

He didn't completely trust it, yet Necromorphs were nothing if not straightforward. Sneaky, but not liars. Fraudulence was a human skill. Besides, it didn't have anything to gain from deceiving him; would have already killed him if so inclined. It wanted to learn about its former identity. He wanted to survive. What more did they need?

His flashlight weaved through the environs and over shapes that the Shadow Man insisted wanted to tear out his guts. Traversing the tram tunnels might have been a bad idea given their lack of cover, but it was the most convenient highway left. Many halls and corridors were either infested with Necromorphs, overgrown with Corruption, blocked with shattered machinery or simply too out-of-the-way. The fact that the Medical Deck was only a single station away made this a tempting route.

"I can't wait to get back to Earth," he said as they trudged along. Fantasizing about escape was the equivalent of starving people dreaming of food: concerning but oh so satisfying. Made his mouth water, too. "I'll never leave it again." He'd suggested it before, but the possibility boggled his mind. Never leaving Sol was one thing, but sticking to a single planet was akin to never stepping out of one's house. _People in the old days used to manage, so I'll do fine._

"You will not escape," it rasped. Talk about a buzzkill. Realizing its words might be taken as a threat, it amended, "I will help how I can, but your hopes are futile. You stand against a god."

"It's fine," he muttered. "It's a stupid fantasy, anyway. What about you, though? What would you do if you had a chance to leave?" In his complacency and distraction, the fact that his companion wasn't human slipped his mind.

Drone stopped in its tracks and stared at the floor before returning its gaze to him. "I don't want to. This is my home." Good, he _wanted_ it to stay here… at least he wanted to want that. Although the thought of this creature lounging on the beach or shopping for food like the person it once was made him guffaw.

"You really want to stay here forever?"

It nodded. "This ship is a paradise: lush, vibrant and full of 'life'. You may not recognize it as such, yet it is to me." Ah, so his guess was right. The Ishimura was a veritable utopia for the undead. Nobody to bother them except _him. _Hard to believe that he was now the freakish invader.

Couldn't last, though. Even if this one Necromorph was OK, it was still a parasite. How would they survive without more humans replenishing their ranks? "This place is falling apart, though. In a couple months, it'll implode or something."

"That will be solved by Convergence," it curtly answered, at which Curtis glanced over in bafflement.

"Isn't _this _Convergence?" What more could there possibly be?

"No. It is merely a step along the path, a part of our evolution. As for the nature of true Convergence… I don't know it. It is something beyond me." Curtis shuddered; the concept of Necromorphs becoming something _more _in body or spirit chilled him. Who knew how much time he had to leave before it happened?

Drone's head snapped back down the tunnel, and it sniffed the air. "Something is coming," it whispered. Curtis strained his ears, grit his teeth and prayed this was a false alarm. What exactly he prayed to was up for debate – probably the Black Marker, as it seemed semi-helpful, but perhaps it was a generic plea to the depths of space and whatever other horrors dwelled therein. Terrors far worse than the Marker might dwell in the galaxy's far places. He couldn't be sure anymore.

Footsteps shook the gallery as it slowly approached, and his throat welded shut. At first, Curtis thought it to be another Brute. That would have been enough of a challenge… but he'd found some ammunition for the Line Gun earlier, so he had a fighting chance. "We need to move," Drone hissed. Easy for her to say – she was fast as lightning.

"I need to see this thing," he replied. "Maybe it won't be so bad." The look on his partner's bony face made his stomach drop, though. She could read the mind of whatever force approached, it's footfalls now vibrating through him like a jackhammer. Before he could change his mind, it stepped into a puddle of crimson light, one of the many that dotted the desolate tracks.

The monstrosity a couple dozen feet away made him seize with fear. It quashed his soul more than the Spider; at least he was barely lucid during that nightmare. It stood ten feet tall and fifteen feet long on four gnarled legs. Like other large Necromorphs, most of the body was glazed with a chitinous, bony carapace. Its top was a writhing mass of flesh with two _massive _scythes erupting out. Looked like a demonic thresher, and they were the wheat. Limbs and faces swirled around, all screaming. _Sam. Perry. Henderson. Danvers. _It wasn't possible.

A massive maw, comprised of the fused jaws of ten different heads, opened and a gigantic rotten tongue licked the air. It knew they were there. The monstrous maw smile, revealing thousands of tiny teeth like needles. Wanted them to run. Curtis had no problem doing that, shrieking and dashing away as the amalgamation of tendrils and teeth pursued.

…

Drone was afraid. She'd experienced many bizarre sensations in the past minutes, but fear was undoubtedly the worst of all. Terror chomped the quagmire of flesh that comprised her body just as her sister hacked the air behind them. Together, they'd rip her to shreds. The tunnel barreled past, stretching unto infinity. No doors, no exits, just concrete and metal as far as her vision reached. Curtis gasped and heaved as she dragged him along; that was the only reason he hadn't yet been consumed. Her sister screamed both aloud and in her head.

She tried to think (though that was difficult) thoughts of peace. They shouldn't be enemies! She was a predator, not prey! They were ignored, and only one response was given.

_You are not one of us._

The words shook her to the core. They terrified her more than the prospect of being cannibalized by a family member. She tried to pretend otherwise earlier through her pain, but the truth was now clear. The Red God excommunicated her for her recalcitrance. Though still connected to the hivemind, she had no voice now. Faint memories slipped through the cracks of a similar thing in human society – those who didn't possess government identification, who were essentially walking ghosts without rights or legal standing. Her brothers and sisters now saw her as _worse _than human. Those could be converted, but she needed to end.

Curtis stumbled as his foot caught on a piece of debris, nearly falling over before catching himself and continuing their breakneck sprint. Many tongues lapped at the air behind them, nearly wrapping around her legs, as well.

Something blocked the tunnel ahead, though it was difficult to tell what at first because her sister's massive footfalls shook everything in sight. _The tram, _she realized over Curtis' screams and her sister's bellows. Maybe she contributed to the chaos, as well. The stalled vehicle filled the corridor. End of the line. Regardless, Curtis plowed into it, bashing his shoulder into the metal and shoving with all his strength. She joined him, desperately digging her claws into the metal and throwing her back into the car so hard it nearly broke her spine.

Meanwhile, her sister slowed, flashing her teeth as she padded closer. Why?! This was sadism – the Red God never taught them such things! Some remnant of her heart might have palpitated in horror, or maybe it was mere imagination.

_**THIS IS THE FATE OF TRAITORS, **_a massive voice resounded in her mind. Like always, the Red God's presence was incredible. This time, though, her awe was tainted with terror rather than hope. _**THE HUMAN HAS EARNED A QUICK DEATH. YOU, HOWEVER, WILL… LINGER.**_

Curtis bent over, clutching his head. Her deity's psychic echoes were so loud that they bled over to him. How terrifying it must have been for a mortal to speak with divinity. Between the Black and Red Gods, it was incredible that his mind hadn't been ripped asunder. No, that fate would befall his body.

All the mouths on her sister's body smiled as it approached, which made Curtis wince. This was the end of the line for them both. Trembling, she racked her brain for any solution, no matter how far-fetched or ridiculous. Her creator may have wanted her dead (well, deader than she already was), yet she couldn't abide that! She wanted to find out about herself – who was she and why did she die?! That was all that mattered now. _And Curtis. Have to protect him. _She still didn't understand these feelings, only that they confirmed a past relationship. Even beyond death, she still wanted to keep her friend safe.

"Use stasis," she rasped to him. The obvious escaped him in his saturnalia. Her sister was feet away now, raking the air with her tongues for show.

"W-what?"

"Use stasis!" she screamed. Her nerve broke, and she throttled him, causing her sister to feel very confused. Wasn't killing them supposed to be _her _job?

The amalgam leapt forward while Drone yanked Curtis' arm toward it. An azure sphere crackled from hand to beast, seizing it in time's grip. All this transpired in half a second. Then her sister hung in the air three feet away. It was strange to feel her mind slow down along with her body; it was as if she'd been drugged.

Curtis was too shocked and scared to move, so she sighed as pushed him out of the way. "Once this thing moves, we run," she said.

The low roar suddenly shot up in pitch as her sister's "face" smashed into the gondola's backside. The world shook at the impact, which jarred the metal car forward just enough for her and Curtis to slip past. Well, his RIG hindered him; he could get through eventually, but not in time. _Hope he forgives me for this! _As her sister picked herself up off the ground, Drone lowered her head, bellowed and charged. His head flashed towards her and he flinched when her cranium drove into his chest.

Nothing snapped or popped, yet that hardly reassured her as he flew back, rolling over debris and groaning. There was screaming everywhere – in her head, from in front and behind and to the left and right and she tried to shove through the gap even as every cell in her body was aflame. _Almost there! _But not quite.

A tongue seized her left leg the instant before she cleared the gap. Whirling around, its main massive maw greeted her with a dozen rows of tiny teeth and grasping appendages that might have once been fingers. It unsettled the human deep within her even as the majority was more scared of death than physical dysphoria. She sawed the proboscis with her hooks, but it was too thick to be cut through in time. The literal jaws of death grew ever closer while their voices rattled her mind. Nothing would be left of her.

Then it turned blue. Stasis. She whirled her head around to see Curtis, panting and growling in his armor like the action vid stars of old. "Let go of my friend," he snarled. Friend. The word jolted her more than the threat of impending annihilation.

Its decelerated reflexes gave her just enough time to slice through the appendage, nearly in her sister's maw. Lethargic moans snapped into a frenzied shriek as time righted itself. Drone sprang back as heavy front paws slammed down to crush her, dodging them by mere inches.

She sprang through the gap, feeling her vestigial lungs rise and fall in her ribcage from muscle memory; that's how the human body acted when afraid! Curtis grabbed her arm and yanked her the rest of the way through… but not before her sister chomped down on her leg.

…

Woozy and nearly passed out, Curtis and Drone stumbled the last few feet to the tram station together, leaning on one another for support. The holograms in his helmet recalibrated themselves after the impact, and broken bones were stitched back together by what little Somatic Gel remained loaded into the RIG's systems. It agonized him, but the hormones pumping through his bloodstream kept him on his feet. _Speaking of which…_

He glanced down at Drone's leg and cringed. He never knew it was possible to sympathize with the undead. Still, he'd have to be a psychopath – more than he already was – to not feel pain at her limb half ripped off and flopping about. Didn't appear to hurt, at least; she seemed more unsettled by the sensation of sinewy muscle holding her appendage together than pained. _She. Her._

Fuck it. She saved his life. The least he could do was bequeath her with actual pronouns instead of treating her like one of the rocks he worked with.

The creature continued to scream and bash against the gondola, which moved a few feet with every impact. He limped slightly faster with Drone clinging on to him, too rattled to speak. There they were, locked in a three-legged race with a monstrous amalgamation of corpses. _Graverobber. For all the people it's desecrated._

Panting for breath (him, at least), they finally reached the terminal. Well, it was actually ten feet above them. The tram jostled slowly but surely forward, and the massive Necromorph had its two scythes shoved between it and each side of the tunnel, slashing at the air like a chthonian thresher! Its roars and the screeching of metal against metal nearly deafened him; must have been worse for Drone with her far superior hearing. Desperate, he tried to fling the car back with kinesis, yet the creature's limbs impeded the gravity field. Smart zombie.

"Remember what we did in the sewer?!" he shouted, breaking through the daze. She nodded, and he grabbed onto her undamaged leg to give her a boost up. Again, the texture wasn't what he expected – slimy, but not disgusting. Far less than the Corruption, anyway. Her clawed hands gripped the rim, and she scrambled up. The wet thwack of her bad leg bouncing against the side made him cringe, as did the ever-increasing howls.

She reached her lanky arms down, and her four umber eyes glimmered with concern. It warmed his heart that someone cared about him in this insanity. A far cry from the first time they tried this. He leapt up and snatched an open hand, nearly cutting his palm open on a razor-sharp talon. Closer, closer, always closer the thing drew, slamming itself against a broken machine. Seemed like a metaphor for all humanity as Curtis clambered up the embankment. They relied so much on technology, but it merely masked what people really were: feral beasts clawing at what held them back. There was a little bit of Necromorph in all of them.

_This is no time to wax poetic! _Still, he was glad the apocalypse gave him a greater appreciation of metaphor and the like. The next moments blurred together. He and Drone limped along, the doorway out of there seeming a million miles away. Screaming intensified as the tram shrieked into the station, and the monster squeezed through the dike. _Fuckfuckfuckfuck. _That was all he could think through the tunnel vision and shadows of blades dancing on the wall ahead. He retracted his helmet, which he quickly regretted because of the trademark Necromorph funk.

They limped through the threshold an instant before the behemoth caught them.

Curtis wanted to laugh or smile! They won! He'd outrun the reaper once again, a fact that made the Shadow Man rage. He didn't celebrate, though. Instead all he felt was concern for the woman beside him.

She groaned like a beached whale (which he'd seen in documentaries like so much of Earth's extinct biodiversity) while the monster tried to claw its way in. Heh. Two Necromorphs were here, but one was infinitely more human than the other ever would be. He was so tired… but he couldn't rest quite yet. More were sure to be attracted by the screams, material and perhaps psychic. Therefore, he grabbed Drone by the shoulders and dragged her as gently as he could into a nearby closet.

The door sealed, and his legs crumpled. He coughed up phlegm and blood while his bleary eyes darted about the red-tinged room. A couple shelves stood around, once stocked but now containing only the barest of medicine. Just what he expected. Then he turned his attention to Drone. She gently shuddered while her broken chest rose and fell. Huh. He didn't know these things could sleep… or perhaps it was something else entirely alien to a human. Regardless, she wasn't "dead" or dying.

"Curtis," she mumbled, not opening her eyes, "did you really mean it? That I'm your friend?"

It took him a moment to remember what she spoke of. _That's right. I called her that. _He hesitated before answering, "Yeah. The closest thing to one I have now, at least."

The answer gave them both the confidence to almost immediately plummet into sleep despite dull roars rattling through the vents.

…

_ **MY BROTHER WILL STOP AT NOTHING UNTIL YOU ARE DEAD. IT IS WELL THAT YOU HAVE FOUND AN ALLY IN THIS CHAOS; I MAY HAVE AIDED HER IN BREAKING THE ENTHRALLMENT, BUT MOST OF IT WAS HER.** _

_ **ESCAPE. FIND ME. I CANNOT SAY MORE, FOR IF I DO AND YOU ARE ASSIMILATED, MY BROTHER WILL LEARN WHAT I TELL YOU AND ALL WILL BE LOST. MERELY KNOW THAT YOU FACE THE GREATEST EVIL YOUR SPECIES – MY CHILDREN – WILL EVER SEE.** _

_ **ONE MORE THING. BEWARE THE ORACLES.** _

**7 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Drone was roused from visions of death, fire and decay by hands on her shoulders. Her four eyes all drifted in different directions, which discombobulated her fleeting awareness. She briefly remembered life with only two of them, forming a sense of vertigo that would have made her nauseous if she still possessed a stomach.

Finally, they latched onto Curtis, forcing a smile despite all the trauma he'd experienced. She could tell from both his face and the subtle pheromones he emitted that he was happy to see her. It wasn't just an act. "Glad you're up," he said, licking his cracked lips.

"How long has it been?" Her head pounded like as she massaged it with her talons. The roaring stopped, she noticed. Her sister must have given up and wandered away.

"Half-an-hour." Huh. That was less time than she expected… though hours and minutes didn't matter. Time rotted and fell apart at the seams. Speaking of which…

She glanced at her mangled leg, clamping her mandibles shut as the damage dawned. Fortunately, she couldn't experience pain anymore. Not in the same way; it registered but wasn't exactly negative. It was like operating on someone with local anesthesia – they knew they were being cut open but didn't _feel _it. The mauled appendage stayed attached to her body with several strands of sinew and bone; the rest hung limply to the side while the energy within it flickered like a dying candle. The Red God's power left it. Not enough to snuff out her existence, yet it still made her hollow.

"Maybe this will work." Her gaze snapped up, and she saw that Curtis held a small gray cylinder: a Med-Pack. "Found this knocked behind the shelves. It's worth its own weight in gold now." He hesitated, raising a hand to wipe away the blood on his own lip. Both of them might benefit from it, but there was only enough gel for one.

"Curtis, use it if you need to." The words surprised him, and they hurt to say – maybe her body no longer ached, but her psyche did. "You have a future. I do not. Besides, it may not work on my cells – I'm not alive, and it's designed for humans." Yeah, she must have been a doctor or nurse in life if she knew all this.

He frowned, turning away for a moment. Just long enough to see all the cuts and scrapes on his neck. She couldn't imagine how many others were all over his body. The RIG helped, obviously, but minor injuries accumulated. The adrenaline and other chemicals within the miasma would help as much as its healing properties. "I appreciate the offer. Really." He flipped the tube open and poured some of its contents onto his gloved hand. "But you need this a lot more than me."

He applied it before she could refuse, and the cooling sensation it brought made her drop the subject. Her mandibles chattered at the relief. Again, there wasn't exactly pain to take away, yet she knew the medicine helped. She felt her cells knit themselves back together, becoming receptacles for the Red God again; if only humans appreciated their own biology so much! _Then again, maybe I could learn to love technology. _It was this artificial substance that aided her, after all.

Yet it wasn't enough. The miasma restored her individual cells, but her leg still hung limply by threads. The pieces were whole; they still needed to be attached. Curtis stared expectantly at the limb as if trying to influence the odds. "I need to stitch myself back together."

"Well, you were a doctor, but do you remember how to do that?" She nodded, though it was a lie. Knowledge simply came to her when she needed it, though, so it probably would when she held a suture in her talons. "Then let's get out of here."

He helped her to her feet. It still felt humiliating to rely on him for help, but not because he was human. The idea of receiving assistance at all shamed her; a consummate predator being saved by a friend wasn't much better than being saved by prey. Curtis was about to place his hand on the door's hologram, but she reached out before he could, merely wondering how much of her humanity was left. Her three claws on the dial looked much stranger than his five fingers in the same position. The genetic scanners whirred about twice as long as they did for him, yet they eventually accepted her not-quite-human DNA, and the threshold opened with a pneumatic hiss. Honestly, she didn't know how to feel about not being too different from him inside.

She could walk alone again, albeit slowly and cautiously so her limb didn't snap off. They stepped into the blasted corridor, and Drone probed the surroundings with her mind. "I do not feel any of my brothers or sisters close by," she whispered. Curtis promptly ignored her and unfastened the Line Gun from his belt, at which she rolled her eyes. "You barely have any ammunition."

"It makes me feel safe," he shot back. "Now let's go."

That they did. Curtis used his holo-map to navigate the jumble of corridors and switchbacks while Drone tried to help. She used to know these halls, but she had to admit this place was very poorly designed… for humans, at least. The tight passages and hive-like architecture deeply comforted her even as her leg continued to twitch. It was the perfect home for a eusocial species like hers – everyone together, communicating and understanding each other in ways humans couldn't imagine.

_But that's gone now. _The Red God reneged its favor from her even though it couldn't cut her off from the hivemind. It was intrinsic to the very being of all her kind; detaching her would disconnect her brothers and sisters, as well. So she lingered, acknowledged but unloved by her deity as she skulked along, looking for answers that no longer mattered. Never again would she experience the joy of interfacing with another being in respect and harmony. Then she shot a glance to Curtis, still fiddling with the map, which he'd somehow managed to flip upside-down.

She both envied and pitied him. His determination and courage were remarkable… but he was doomed. Regardless of his actions or fantasies of escape, he'd be conscripted into the Red God's ranks like all the rest. She really did think he'd prefer his new existence – she and most of her siblings did once they gave it a chance – but it would be nice if it let people choose.

"Any idea where we're going?" he asked after a minute more. This red, sparking, graffiti-lined passage was the same as all the others.

She sniffed the air. Her kin were closer; they whispered in her mind, asking her why she betrayed them. It made her wrench away, growling. "This way." Curtis followed.

Corruption spread along the roof and walls. Once friendly and amiable, it now hissed at her as she passed. _Betrayer. Liar. Charlatan. _Capillary waves of flesh feebly tried to tear off her leg. It wouldn't work, yet the intention behind it broke her spirit. The ship itself wanted her gone. A few unnatural scents – formaldehyde and carbolic acid and rose-scented perfume – still hung in the air like smoke in a party room after all the guests had gone. Indeed, they were among the only evidence that things once lived among the dead. _And one still does._

The presence of a brother pinched a nerve in her brain. She motioned for Curtis to be silent with one hand while stopping him with the other. Fortunately, he got the message, and both stood stock-still, for there was no place to hide. The telltale wet slap of flesh on metal approached from ahead. A lot of flesh.

"What do we do?" Curtis hissed, prompting a growl from ahead. She didn't know. Too many to fight – six or seven, she sensed – and nowhere to run. From the way the Graverobber (as Curtis called her; he really liked these nicknames) acted, the Red God cast her out. Her kin no longer considered her one of them. Far worse than a human: a duplicitous backstabber. Not that she blamed them, for that's exactly what she was. Part of her wanted to gut him and restore her honor. That itself would be a betrayal… and she couldn't bring herself to force this gift on someone who didn't want it. Only one possibility presented itself.

She dropped to the floor, splaying her limbs out and twisting her broken leg so that it looked disconnected from the rest of her body. Would have been agonizing if her nerves worked the same way, but it felt more like wet noodles being pressed against the stump. Still unpleasant.

"Play dead," she whispered to Curtis before slumping back, her tongue lolling out. She had no idea if this would work, but it was their only chance. Curtis hesitated before sliding down against the wall to conceal his spine-mounted health readout; that'd instantly foil the ruse.

Mere moments later, six of her brothers and sisters rounded the corner, strutting towards them in a pack. _Slasher. Leaper. Puker. _These were among the castes present. They didn't speak, of course, but the echoes of their interfacing minds caressed hers, and she struggled to not resond. Contact with others of her kind was so close… but she couldn't. They'd disowned her. Therefore, she stopped thinking. Any emotion – sadness, rage, fear – would alert them that she still existed. She couldn't just look "dead" – she needed to _think _it, as well. Wasn't easy.

Why did the mind always wander at such inopportune times? It may have been the Red God's machinations or her own weakness, her thoughts drifted from nirvana to concern. _Curtis. _She loved her family, but she couldn't let them –

One growled. They'd "heard" her. Cracking open an eye, she saw them come closer, gazes combing over the debris. Luggage, crates and so on. The dross of humanity was everywhere; while usually a hindrance, it here provided a distraction. The Leaper whipped his tail through a box to see if anyone hid there. _Where are you?_

_We hear you._

_Give up the human – the Red God may forgive you. _These were the general thoughts her kin conveyed, and she wanted to for a moment. Curtis was dead no matter what he wanted. Wouldn't it be better if his demise led to her acceptance instead of it amounting to nothing?! The Slasher tore into a stack of medical supplies to see if they hid under them. The lighting was poor enough for them not to have noticed the patently obvious shapes before them.

Curtis slowly reached for the Line Gun, though he couldn't take them all out with the two or three shots he had left. Utilizing the power cells as mines _might, _but it also threatened to collapse the failing support structures and have the level above them fall down and pulverize them.

That left them with nothing to do but hope and wait. Drone wanted to pray to her god, but she realized the hypocrisy of that desire. No, her thoughts went to the void. The Puker vomited on something, which quickly dissolved and filled her nostrils with the acrid stench of acid. _We know you're here._

They were feet away now. Her muscles tensed as Curtis continued to fidget, and she was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to go for him. Whether this was to kill or protect him, she didn't know, but something happened before she could.

A distant _human_ scream echoed down the halls, making all their heads snap back. They were gone a moment later, off to facilitate the conversion of the recently deceased. She and Curtis looked at each other, slowly getting to their feet and wandering off.

…

Curtis was ashamed. No, that was far too light a descriptor; his stomach ached from grief over what he'd just done… what he failed to do. The world was hollow as he thudded along, slow steps mirroring his heavy heart. Drone didn't seem nearly as fazed, a fact that would have angered him if he had the energy for anything besides lethargic disappointment.

"There was nothing you could have done for that person," she whispered to him after a small eternity. Of course, there were no monsters around to kill when he needed something to exact vengeance on. "You are not of my kin, yet your sorrow is still palpable. There is no one to blame."

"Easy for you to say," he spat. "You're already dead. I bet you don't even care." Even as he berated her, he knew that wasn't true. Why would she have helped him this long if it was? Didn't matter. He needed catharsis. After all, he'd only survived because someone else's death distracted them!

"Many have died. Even if you and others reject this gift…" He rolled his eyes. She was too stubborn or blind to see her freakish, rotting visage as a curse bestowed by an evil god. "They would have died regardless.

_Hmm… _Maybe Drone was right, at least partially. Humans were destined to die, but cutting that life short was still tragic. Didn't budge the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he still felt like shit, but what could he have done? Not a happy thought, though fitting for these dark times. Speaking of dark, the corridor's light faded as they pressed forward. Corruption grew over the lights, which painted the floor with throbbing veins as photons punched through the translucent flesh.

"We're close," she said. About time. It seemed like they'd wandered these halls just short of forever. Pain from the Shadow Man's immaterial slashes and stabs slowed time so much it felt like he was in stasis. He had to ignore every time his guts were torn out, though, for several reasons. The first was because he had to get out of here. Like Drone, he _needed _to know. The second was that the demon's rage trumped whatever agony he felt. Made him smile through bloody teeth.

Finally, they reached a door similar to the dozens of others that pegged the corridor. Crazy to know that some of the brightest minds humanity had to offer were dead but not quite gone. Why was _he _the only one left?! Why did the Black Marker choose him to be its emissary or whatever? Why had he, a dumb, run-of-the-mill miner survived while everything and everyone else died around him?! It wasn't fucking fair! He silently raged about his own tenacity as they approached the threshold.

"This… was my office," Drone said, clutching her head with mangled hands. "I remember that. Sorting through files and entering logs." She turned to him, trembling. "Can you wait here for a few minutes? I need some time alone." Though the thought of standing here by himself unnerved him, Drone's terror made him acquiesce. This would be an emotional experience for anyone. He nodded. "Thank you."

She wandered inside and began poking around, rifling through old memories of whoever she once was. Surprised him how much she could manipulate with those foot-long meathooks, yet they were quite dexterous. Perhaps it was perverse to spy on such a sacred moment, but it provided a distraction from the constant threat of death, and she didn't seem to mind as long as he kept a respectful distance. Drone flipped through papers and knick-knacks, trying to find clues about her old self. Whoever she was would be interesting… _if _she wanted to share that information. It was none of his business; if she didn't want to tell him, he'd respect that.

His mind wandered after a bit of not hearing any threatening noises, drifting back to the dream, if it could even be called that. The Black Marker spoke to him from an aphotic void, telling him it needed to "find it" or some crap. And it insinuated it somehow helped Drone break free? Nothing made sense, but perhaps that was the point. He couldn't know yet. The questions made him even more desperate to survive. _And Oracles? _His hand ran over the miniature mask he'd taken from Eckhardt, still stored safely in his pocket... along with the Marker necklace.

A few melancholy minutes later, and she gestured for him to enter, a look of sorrow somehow etched upon her split, skull-like face. "I know who I am. Was," she rasped. "A name, at least. Some memories. I don't know how much they matter anymore." She hesitated. "Do… you want to know?"

He did. That mystery was something he was eager to solve with his ally. The noble goal of self-discovery gave him another reason to persevere, and he needed as many of those as he could get. Still, sharing such a thing must have be difficult. This woman's identity was best kept to herself until she wanted to share it – he had no right to commit such an invasion of privacy. Whoever she used to be was dead… in more ways than one. "Not unless you want me to."

She mulled it over a moment before her four eyes locked onto his visor. He couldn't place the emotion therein. Sadness? Maybe. Her mandibles couldn't really form a frown, though, and her tear ducts were long gone. "Later," she noncommittally mumbled. That time might not come… but there were more important things to worry about. Shockingly, help would arrive quite soon if his predictions were accurate. The pounding in his head was strong as ever, though he'd gotten fairly adept at ignoring it.

"How interesting," the Shadow Man wheezed at him, though he sounded different than he normally did. Louder? "I never would have guessed." Drone's head darted around; could she hear his demons, too?! No… a real person spoke over the intercom. "Come to my office – three halls down and one over. Perhaps we could talk."

The speakers clicked off, leaving Curtis breathless. His brain kicked into overdrive while his body vibrated with joy. Someone else was alive! And this wasn't just his imagination – Drone heard it, too!

"Let's go," he said, whirling around without a second thought.

"Wait." She put a hand on his shoulder to restrain him. Even if it wasn't meant as a threat, it still made him cringe to have lethal weapons inches from his neck. Sensing his discomfort, she quickly removed them. "Who is this? What does he want?"

"It doesn't matter," Curtis replied. "Someone is alive who needs our help." He noticed that he said "our" – perhaps he trusted Drone around other humans more than he initially believed. Regardless, it was his duty to help people. Even though the voice on the intercom didn't sound distressed in the slightest, they still needed to check it out. Dangerous? Yes. Suspicious? Certainly. The smile the Shadow Man gave him pretty much confirmed that something dangerous was afoot. Then again, wasn't it always?

…

Drone felt like shit as she walked alongside Curtis, following the voice's instructions.

Actually, she wasn't Drone anymore. She was Nicole. Nicole Brennan, age 39, blood type O negative, SMO of the Ishimura. Hair color: blonde. Eye color: blue. None of that was true anymore, of course. Relationship status: taken, but not engaged or married.

It was merely a string of facts that she gathered from papers scattered around the office. Few memories came with them, surprisingly. Few emotional connections. It was like staring into a filthy mirror. She knew these pointless statistics to be true (or they used to be), but only one – her relationship status – tugged at her heartstrings.

_My boyfriend? What… what's his name? _She tried to dig into the past, buried deep in her mind's recesses, but the ground was stony and unyielding. _Arthur? Evan? _These secrets wouldn't be easily surrendered. Even now, she felt the Red God push them even deeper; for her treachery, she would never learn of her own past. Not without help.

She shot another glance over at Curtis – her patient. Yes, she found his own medical records in a desk cabinet. Curtis Mason, age 31, blood type AB positive, Class 5 Miner. Hair color: brown. Eye color: brown. When not covered by a powered exoskeleton, at least. Relationship status: single.

Plus, he was her friend. A couple of notes were scribbled into the margins of his file – "hope he pulls through" and "check in often" among them. Whatever relationship they possessed was obviously more friendship than a doctor/patient dynamic. From both her memories and the files she'd found, Nicole didn't seem to have many of those.

Psychic screams rooted in her mind as they approached the unknown doctor's office. A brother and a sister were nearby in utter agony. _Agony. How is that possible? _They could feel mental pain, yes, but this was physical, as well. Her bones ached in empathy. For the pain to be physical, something must have been directly attacking their nervous systems.

She stopped dead in her tracks. _The Hunter… the Hunter is the same. He aches. _While always the family's black sheep, the Red God welcomed her odd brother into the flock despite his origins. _What were they? _She didn't remember. All she knew was that her kin admired him as the ultimate predator – an unattainable pinnacle that they nevertheless attempted to scale. Were there _more _of them?! If so, Curtis was in grave danger.

"Stop," she whispered. "Wait." He didn't respond, merely continuing forward with trademark pigheadedness. That would have been an admirable trait if death didn't lurk around every corner. "Curtis!" she hissed, finally grabbing his attention.

"What? We have to hurry. That man will die if we don't get there soon."

_He'll die if we do. _She wasn't callous enough to say that aloud, and Curtis already knew.

Alien thoughts of pain and suffering rattled her head as they approached. Black spots flooded her vision; the pain echoed what it would have been if she was still human. Hurt like Hell regardless. Hell. This used to be Heaven for her. Not that she believed in either of those places, but she now saw how subjective these metaphysical states were. One could become the other in a blink.

Screams grew to howls and roars as they neared, but only in her head. Bizarre to sense these sounds but not hear them; it was like being blind in only one eye. The picture was present, but not as much. Rounding a corner, a small patch of yellow light from an ajar wooden door (and that in itself was unusual) gyred on dull metal. It was the first light she'd seen in all too long that wasn't crimson. Curtis practically leapt for joy and took up the lead, her following right behind.

This was wrong. It was a trap. She already tried to tell him, yet he wouldn't listen, and now her brain screamed at her to flee. The door, the voice and the location all combined to form a vortex of fear in her gut, wailed over by two neuron-shattering screams. "This is our last chance to leave," she whispered right as Curtis was about to knock. "If you do this… you'll regret it."

"Is that a threat?" he shot back, making her recoil. "Do you even want this guy saved?"

"Curtis, this is wrong. Did you hear how calm he was? The fact that his door is open? It's a trap." Left unsaid were the Hunters. He probably wouldn't believe her, and even if he did, he wouldn't care. She had no clue what was happening, only that it must have been sinister.

To her surprise, he actually appeared to mull over her words for a few moments. "Even if it is, I don't care." He shoved open the door before she could stop him.

Two figures that looked nearly identical to the Hunter were clamped to metal operating tables with metal restraints; one was slightly shorter and thinner than the other, but that was the only difference. Their mouths were muzzled shut. Now the silence made sense. There was no human to be found, however. "You're an idiot," she spat at him, to which he had no retort.

"Come inside, both of you," the voice again crackled over the intercom. The speaker must have been at the deck's Security Station and spying on them through the multitude of cameras scattering every corner.

"What if we don't?" Curtis replied to the empty air, his gaze firmly fixed on her kin.

"Then I'll open their shackles. You might initially escape, but they are… tenacious."

Curtis looked over to her, quivering. "Y-you were right."

At least he admitted that he was stupid. Didn't change the fact that _he was really stupid. Why was I friends with this guy? _Probably because he was kind – how many humans would have given her a chance, plus the fact wanting to help someone out – but that proved a hindrance in cases like this. Regardless, they stepped into the office. Would have been homey if not for her hogtied siblings and screams in her head.

Shattered glass jars lined the shelves, viscous residue clinging to the shards. Graffiti similar to the type they'd seen all across the ship was the big tip-off that something was wrong… if they needed more proof of that. Marker symbols strung together in a pale one-for-one translation of English. They were so much more than that when assembled correctly; they made her what she was, and these Unitologists made a mockery of them. She appreciated the devotion they showed, but they didn't correctly express it. Clearly the doctor was one of them, as evinced by her brother and sister.

_Did he make them? _The notion made her shudder. Heresy. The Red God already branded her with that word, but that didn't mean she had to stoke the fires of blasphemy further. The idea that a human could create the ultimate Necromorph was not only obscene but absurd. Still, she saw no other explanation for how the two had been bound to the table then them beginning as corpses. In fact, maybe one of them was the screamer as the last ounce of humanity departed.

"I've watched the two of you for a while, now," the voice whispered. She involuntarily shuddered. Not from fear, necessarily, but any human who spoke to her as an equal wasn't normal. She shot a glance over at Curtis and shook her head. Again, he wasn't quite right in the head. "Since you reached this deck. It's remarkable how you've worked together – living and dead, flesh and steel, operating in tandem."

Nicole was flattered, though the voice dripped venom. Who was he? Curtis wasn't nearly as impressed, finally breaking the silence he'd maintained since entering.

"What the fuck did you do?!" he exploded. "You're a monster!"

A monitor on the far wall burst to life, sputtering static. It cleared up a moment later, revealing a middle-aged balding man with a patchy beard. Her mouthparts swung open in shock. She knew him. That made sense, considering their offices were nearby, but it was more than that. She didn't just know him – she _despised _him. Used to, anyway; that hatred rooted in her mind as she involuntarily growled. She didn't know whether this rage was the remnant of old, dilapidated emotions or something genuine to her new self, but his computerized gaze made her skin crawl.

"Dr. Mercer!" Curtis exclaimed. Yes, that was his name – Challus Mercer. Seemed they both knew him. "You did this?!"

"An astute observation," Mercer scoffed. "Yes, I am helping humanity transcend the bounds of nature. I do not expect a new convert to understand that, though you were the only one present at the Captain's announcement besides me to grasp the Marker's full weight."

"I'm not a Unitologist anymore. Fuck your Marker. It may be a god, but it's not one I want to worship."

"That's unfortunate, though not surprising. Even when divine truth is before you, you reject it because it is not the message you want to hear. A being infinitely our greater is telling us this is our destiny. Who are we to argue with it?" Curtis didn't answer, merely repeating the same middle-fingered gesture he'd done to her in the waste processor. Hard to believe that was only a couple hours prior. Mercer continued to smile and shook his head.

"So, what? You're going to kill us?" he spat. Her brother and sister continued to writhe in pain and their new instincts. They couldn't have existed for very long.

"_I _won't lay a finger on either of you. That honor falls to the remarkable creations beside you. You're acquainted with Jacob Temple, yes?" The name tickled something in the back of Nicole's mind, but it was far worse for Curtis. He looked between monster and monitor, and she felt waves of fear flow from him. "Yes, he and Elizabeth Cross make for fine specimens indeed… as do you." His wolfish grin fixed on her. He knew who she was.

"Even in death, I must say you are truly beautiful. Magnificent. You, I won't have killed. I'd like to study you in greater detail."

With those words, the shackles clacked open, and the massive figures began to rise, their yellow eyes pleading for mercy despite their orders to kill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone. February's nearly over, so maybe another chapter will stunt the cold (or heat, for my readers in the Southern Hemisphere). It took longer than I wanted to write this, but the semester's gotten busy and my attention has been split between this and another project. I won't spoil it, save that I plan on it being a stand-alone one-shot or only a couple chapters. Hopefully that'll come out very soon.
> 
> If you're confused about what exactly the Graverobber is, don't worry. It's a special Necromorph that was originally supposed to be in the movie Dead Space: Downfall but got cut for some reason. I think the idea is cool, however. I'm going to make it Curtis' version of the Hunter – a nigh-unstoppable freak of nature that holds a grudge. Maybe there'll be a Hunter/Graverobber tag team at some point if I can think of a good scenario.
> 
> Oh, and speaking of those extra Hunters that Mercer made, I know it violates continuity. Temple and Cross were only captured by Mercer much later, but they don't really play a role, and I thought this was a cool idea! I may be an expert on Dead Space lore, but that doesn't mean I'm beholden to it. Hopefully it's not overkill (heh). Finally, it's my belief that Mercer's a necrophile. There's no direct evidence of that, but it always seemed likely to me given how creepy and obsessed with corpses he is. Don't worry, I'm not going to get explicit with it – him complimenting Nicole's "beauty" is as far as it goes (plus Curtis falls in love with her later, so I can't judge). Tell me what you think.
> 
> That's all for now. I'd like to thank PHOENIXGUY, ANCIENTOFDAYZ, DERPYSAUCE, CRIMSON AN'XILEEL, JASONVUK, JYX THE BERSERKER, BLAUORANGE and NOTSAE for reviewing!


	14. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salutations. I'm happy I was able to get this out a little quicker than last time; no other writing projects holding me back. Oh, speaking of which, check out my D&D romance fic "Dreg and Sya" if you haven't already. You might like it!
> 
> Not much to say about this chapter except we're getting closer to Isaac showing up and the plot of Dead Space 1 starting. I hope the fic hasn't felt like a slog to get there. Other than that, all my classes have been moved online for the rest of the semester because of coronavirus (stay safe, everyone). Hopefully I can work on this more if circumstances permit. Meanwhile, my parents and sister visited relatives in Galveston (we have different breaks, and she's home for the rest of the semester, too), but I'm happy to stay at home and write… I got off topic.
> 
> There's a gimmick this chapter I'm excited to try out – how well can Curtis and Nicole communicate without speaking? I think fundamental issues like that are fun to play with, but tell me what you think. It's also the chapter where feelings begin to form, because it's high time for that. Though in Nicole's case, I should note that she's now asexual, so her feelings for him are more platonic… it's complicated.
> 
> Thanks to JASONVUK, PUZZLEMASTER1998, ANCIENTOFDAYZ and CRIMSON AN'XILEEL for reviewing!

**8 Hours Post-Outbreak**

Some things never lost their sheen of novelty for Curtis. Going into space, the sight of a planet framed against the sun (or twin crimson stars, in this case), the feeling of his organs drifting away from each other in zero gravity.

Being chased by the undead was also on the list. He already knew that, but the notion that the creatures breathing down his neck were unkillable made it worse. Not as excruciating as the Graverobber he'd run from a little while earlier, but still bad.

Running was all he did now, through corridors or darkened rooms with clammy, necrotic hands beckoning him to oblivion. Come to think of it, he'd spent his entire life running – from one job to the next, from his failures, from his dead-end past into the equally dead-end future. He'd finally slammed into that dead-end, though it was far more literal than he expected. A lifetime of flight finally caught up to him, and now there was nowhere left to flee.

Throwing a glance backwards, his heartrate redoubled when he saw the Hunters' velocity. A barrier of meters kept the ultimate killers from driving their blades into his spine. "Elizabeth" skittered along the floor on all fours while "Jacob" was more traditional, barreling forwards with reckless abandon. The glints in their eyes and the remainder of their faces actually made him feel worse than impending death. They were in such pain.

Speaking of which, he noticed Drone cringe as she ran alongside him… or galloped, rather, sprinting forward on both hands and her one good leg like a wolf. It was worse for her, as she literally felt their agony along with them. Again, he envied that kind of connection. If only humans could do the same, maybe he'd finally have friends. He'd be able to better understand people, at least.

An alarm began blaring, drowning out alien roars and rattling his skull. His eardrums would rupture if this kept happening!

"Q-q-q-quarantine activateddddd_ddddddd!_" the AI sputtered over the siren. A bulkhead at the end of the hall slammed down. Fuck! He recognized from the background of Mercer's vid-log that he was at the same Security Station Curtis had been at a couple hours before. And now he was using it to seal them in with his pets! This couldn't get any worse! The second he thought that, a rush of wind battered him as the deck's atmosphere was promptly siphoned away.

"Fuck!" he screamed, the sound going no further than his helmet. On one hand, at least he no longer went deaf. On the other, he had one fewer way to detect his foes! He whirled around for a split second before running even faster, ignoring the burning in his legs and pelvis. So close! Too close! The fact his muscles hadn't melted after all they'd been through was miraculous.

Nowhere to go. Down every passage, the bulkheads were sealed. No time to cut through them, and they ran out of room! He stumbled over miscellaneous medical equipment obscured by the dull light, barely catching himself. Sight and hearing abandoned him, as did smell. Taste never mattered, and he couldn't feel anything but pain through the RIG's thick, synthetic padding. He was a child again in the worst way – powerless, good only to hide.

He would have smacked himself if the situation permitted. It was obvious! His eyes flew to the dozens of vents along the passage. He always forgot about them. Why wouldn't he? They weren't made for human travel… but humans didn't run the show anymore. _I need to start thinking like a Necromorph._

Vents it was. All he needed to do was buy himself some time. _This'll hurt._

In one fluid movement, he sprang forward, tore the Line Gun from his back, deactivated the safety and fired.

The sight of weaponized plasma was haunting in the vacuum, and his perception slowed for a split second to take in the beauty. The bolt would normally crackle as some of its energy ionized the air, but without any atmosphere, it remained a perfectly symmetrical turquoise line, almost like a glowstick.

It tore through Jacob's legs as a knife sliced butter. It (he refused to assign a gender to the monster puppeting his friend's skin) went down hard, cracking its skull open on a shard of steel. Another shot, this one shearing Elizabeth's arms clean off. And that was the last of his ammunition. Both of them helplessly wiggled on the ground. This normally would have evoked schadenfreude… but not for them. They didn't want this! He knew from the looks in their eyes they were self-aware, but either the torture devices Mercer implanted (Nicole mentioned he attached something to the Hunter's nervous system to control it) gave them no choice, or they just didn't have the willpower to break free.

He wanted more than anything to put his friend out of his misery as it writhed, but he couldn't. Fuck this ship.

…

Despite the vertigo it brought, Nicole found the vacuum rather soothing. She dared to close her eyes for a moment; there was nothing. Even the screams in her own head were somehow muffled by the lack of sound.

_We're sorry, _her siblings thought, pathetically slashing space as they writhed on their backs like overturned insects. _He'll hurt us if we refuse. So much pain… _She felt that stronger than ever as new legs burst from their stumps, absorbing the biomass of the Corruption they flailed upon. It was unnatural. Wrong. And for them, utterly agonizing. Another psychic scream ripped through her brain. It would have knocked the wind out of her if her lungs weren't already shriveled sacks, unable to operate in the vacuity.

Curtis fired a shot of stasis from his left hand while tearing off a wall duct's cover with the kinesis from his right. Her siblings' minds slowed down, crafting an illusion of intoxication, which mercifully dampened the pain, if only momentarily. He turned back and motioned her forward, though the gesture was entirely symbolic. They'd practiced this maneuver enough to be experts. She limped forward and nodded, tension palpable through his unchanging façade. He hoisted her up by the good leg, and she scrambled into the ventilation system's safety. Her kind possessed an instinctual comfort in small spaces, much as humans were soothed by open sky.

Her body relaxed. Between that and her siblings in stasis, the only discomfort she felt was fluids in her exposed flesh steaming after spending so much time below the Armstrong limit. She stole a single selfish second to relax, closing her eyes while running her boiling tongue over the jagged teeth studding her mandibles. Everything was normal, and she was the Red God's child, with all the peace and joy that brought… then she reached over to grab Curtis.

Mounting the rim, he shooed her forward, though she wasn't sure how well he could keep up. She slashed the walls as she slithered along, both to remove the Corruption, which lapped at her flesh (and shrieked as she excoriated it away) and to create handholds for her human companion to drag himself along. She couldn't hear him, and there was no space for her to turn around. All she could do was trust Curtis could keep up. _Something_ did, but the faint thumps behind her might have been her siblings who'd stopped thinking to cauterize their own misery.

With no way to tell, she just kept going.

…

Curtis' brain throbbed as his eyes whirled. There was far more to see in that cramped, disgusting crawlspace than he would have liked. The walls had eyes growing from them; his headlamp illuminated them, unblinking. Tongues, too. Mouths silently screaming in the vacuum.

These were probably hallucinations – he hadn't seen their ilk before, and his thumping skull meant the Shadow Man bashed his mind with a sledgehammer – yet he couldn't be sure. It was one thing for the Necromorph equivalent of slime mold to be self-aware, as Drone insisted it was, but it actually being able to see and yell at him made him want to vomit. Regardless, he squinted and kept dragging himself along on the handholds she gouged for him. "Slow down!" he pointlessly yelled; she pulled further away by the second, and for good reason – something approached from behind, making him claw and kick his way along with spasming muscles.

The oxygen readout in his HUD's corner tumbled, burning away from heavy breathing and accidentally firing the thrusters in his haste. "Drone! Wait!" But she was gone. His pitiful light showed only flesh.

A claw nicked the tip of his boot, and he knew the end was near. No ammo. No Somatic Gel. No oxygen, even. He had almost nothing left. The Shadow Man materialized before him, reclining in the morass.

_Are you giving up? _it asked. The question was supposed to be rhetorical, and Curtis was supposed to answer with "yes" or perhaps scream while it savored his death. The thing never learned, though, nor did the Marker, which it was an avatar of. He would _never _give up. While nearly certain he'd die very soon, he'd utilize every drop of willpower and dirty trick before succumbing. Sure, this might have been the end of the line, but he had enough grit for a final act of defiance.

"Don't hold your breath." A familiar foghorn rattled his skull: the Black Marker's way of cheering him on, he supposed. The Shadow Man kind of imploded, regular blackness again occupying the utter void. With that, Curtis chomped down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood and funneled the last of his strength, power and will to live into a single kick.

He didn't need to see the monstrosity behind him to feel its skull cave in under his RIG's might. Blinded until it regrew the appendage, he felt the vent shudder as it flailed and tore around. His bleary gaze drifted to the air meter. Less than a minute left. He felt his lips curl into a smile before collapsing face-first into the metal. _So tired. _That was it. He tried to move his arms, but they twitched helplessly. It was everything he had. The Hunter would regenerate its head in seconds, gore him, and that'd be it. Wasn't happy about dying, but he took pride in knowing he couldn't have done any better.

_I just hope Drone ends up OK. _Part of him still felt ridiculous for caring about the "life" of this Necromorph, but he really did. Best friend he ever had besides Sam, Nathan, Lexine, Gabe and Nicole. _Whatever happened to Nicole? _He hadn't thought about her in a while, but this was the perfect time to with his vision fading and death inches away. Probably dead. One of his biggest regrets was the way they left each other. There was nothing like "thank you for being there for me" or "you're a good friend".

Instead, it was them airing out their guilt: him giving her too much hope from not mentioning Mathius' death and her letting Mercer launch the escape shuttles early. _So that shitbag's gonna be the last human left alive. Hope Jacob and Elizabeth get him. _Regardless of what happened to Nicole, he hoped his passing at least meant Drone got her "family" back. Then maybe she could have a happy few months of relaxation or whatever Necromorphs did in their downtime before the Ishimura's reactors inevitably melted down and the ship exploded. If only they could have spent more time together…

The thrashing behind him slowed as the Hunter presumably absorbed nearby Corruption and crafted it into a new limb. Curtis lay his head against the flesh beneath him, feeling something akin to a heartbeat. Would have been disgusting if he wasn't so, so tired. Heh, felt like he was plunging – it was always like that when people lapsed into unconsciousness.

Only when he hit the ground did he realize he _actually _fell.

…

Suffocation's sting snapped Curtis from his coma. Vision returning, he clutched at his throat and staggered up. _How am I alive?! _Didn't matter considering he wouldn't be for long! Well, this was the perfect opportunity to let himself die. Nothing he could do but surrender to the numbness wracking his body and be ferried to whatever existed beyond the veil of death.

The conspicuous canister of oxygen immediately before him begged to differ. There was no mistaking the large tank marked **O****2** as anything else. He was almost sad to survive longer as he stumbled towards the container, the edges of his vision falling into blackness. Another bullet dodged. He realized how miraculous his survival was, yet all death needed was one slip-up or stroke of bad luck. Living would only bring more pain, like his burning lungs as he fumbled with attaching the valve to the port on his RIG.

Dark delirium danced before him, the Shadow Man therein. It demanded – practically begged – that he let himself die. _Why do you suffer so? Perish and it will end._

Maybe it was the Red Marker's influence or his own enervated dementia, but he perceived the Shadow Man differently at that moment. Whether a universal force of the Marker, the one that made others see loved ones (which he lacked) or a physical manifestation of his own Thanatos that the obelisk awakened, it wanted to die. That was why it took such pleasure in the suffering of others; it envied them. Being a part of him, it couldn't end its pitiful existence until _he _expired. Until then, it was trapped in the hellish limbo of Curtis' psyche, a prisoner in his body not unlike Necromorphs themselves.

The tiniest spark of empathy ignited in his chest, consuming the last of the air therein. The two stared at each other a moment; the vacuum was hardly an insurmountable barrier with the silhouette living in his brain, yet it was more out of respect than anything else.

Oxygen flooded his RIG and the world snapped back into focus. Well, not quite; reality was still a cracked mirror of what it should have been. Regardless, he was able to take in his surroundings now.

He was in a small medical antechamber filled with life support apparatuses and bloodied cots. A couple small canisters of oxygen were scattered about, though there were no Med-Packs. Looking up, he saw a hole in the ceiling to the ventilation shaft. That was when he put the pieces together. The Hunter must have thrashed so hard that it weakened the shaft and let him fall through. "Jacob" then probably continued on, not seeing him. An incredibly lucky break for him… though he might never see Drone again, a fact that made him hang his head. If only he'd thought to find her a personal communicator so he knew she was OK!

How crazy was that? He'd desperately wanted to escape her just a few hours prior, and now he was crushed by the prospect of never seeing her again! Nathan was right; the fires of war forged a friendship he never expected. And now it was gone. _Maybe this is for the best, _he tried to reassure himself as he scooped up an air can for future use and headed for the door. _I mean, we could have never worked out, anyway. _He thought of this almost like a breakup. That's how pathetic he felt. Though he had to admit, he might well have had a crush on Drone if she wasn't a saurian zombie. The notion still made him shift uncomfortably in his armor, so he banished all thoughts of romance and headed back into the unknown.

He didn't recognize the area, though there was no reason for him to. However, the dearth of medical equipment (the room he landed in was the exception) implied it was more focused on research than patient treatment. _There should be fewer Necromorphs here, in that case_. Again, the ship's hundreds of miles of corridors must have been pretty sparsely populated, which boosted his confidence. More concerning were the ubiquitous security cameras. While present on every deck, they were more common on Medical because of its large crew. Curtis didn't know if Mercer had access to the ones in this area, but he'd try to stay away from them just in case.

Therefore, he stepped out, pressed himself to the wall and crept forward… or maybe back. He grew more adept at navigating with the map in his RIG, but he didn't exactly possess the luxury of time. His destination was the Security Station; that was located at the whole deck's hub, not to mention that Mercer was there. The doctor was going to die – the thought of killing another human would normally traumatize him, but he'd make an exception just once. This monster murdered Jacob and Elizabeth, twisting them into killing machines!

That a Unitologist did this nearly made him finish the job of crushing the Marker necklace in his pocket. Only sentimental value prevented the trinket from destruction. Couldn't discard the last he had of Sam. Regardless, he felt like a fool for buying the vile religion for even a second. A couple good people didn't offset from the psychos and murderers he'd run across so far.

_ **THEY ARE NOT ALL BAD… THOUGH I AM NO GOD. ONLY THE MOST FANATICAL WERE SELECTED FOR THIS MISSION.** _

The words rattled around his head, far more profound than they should have been. Straight from the Black Marker itself – it wasn't divine. He cerebrally recognized that, but having confirmation lifted a mountain from his shoulders. He may have been going against something unknowable, yet it at least wasn't supernatural. Though the fact that the primary object of Unitologist theology actually seemed OK for an ancient psychic pointy rock poked a bit of a hole in his "they're all bad" assertion.

_Uh, thanks for reminding me, _he thought before shaking his head and continuing. He'd ask more questions later; for now, he needed to press on. Through dark halls and silent crypts he crept, kept awake by the pain coursing through his body from hours of accrued injuries. He could hardly believe he still stood after all the muscles he'd pulled and the bones he'd broken. But he had to keep going, see what made him so "special". Why everyone else had to die. Whether the whole human race was extinct by his hand.

Every so often, he spotted Necromorphs in various states: some prowled, some "slept" in that same sedentary state Drone lapsed into and a couple silently chattered in the vacuum, the lack of sound being no obstacle to telepathic beings. They were all at a distance, fortunately; he hated running but couldn't fight back until he found some more power cells for the Line Gun. For a moment, he _wasn't_ terrified or angry at the monsters. The Black Marker drove away his hallucinations for a little while, and most of his fear was directed at the fact he'd never see his friend again.

Therefore, the primary thing that struck him about the Necromorphs was how _peaceful _they seemed. When not hunting humans (which none of them did anymore, probably), they appeared perfectly happy to sit, relax and commune with each other. Curtis thought about what humans would do in such situations. Probably just mess around on the Transnet – a hive mind in itself, but a buffer from direct interaction. They didn't seem to have culture, however, yet they didn't need it; all their desires were found within themselves and each other. What he once thought primitive now seemed more like them "living" austerely, like an idealized version of human misanthropy.

He pulled up the map again. It wasn't too far now. The primary obstacle between him and the Security Station was something marked as the "BPC". He recalled Nicole mentioning it once or twice, but he had no idea what it actually was. _Hey, as long as it's not the Morgue. _He shuddered at the memories of that place – headless monsters crawling from the abyss. Fortunately, it didn't look like he was going anywhere near there.

A couple more minutes and a few close calls later, he stood at an unassuming bulkhead… nearly out of air again. Moment of truth. If the area beyond this door wasn't pressurized, he was probably dead. The thought scared him. At least he thought it did. He'd experienced so much fear over the past days that he hardly remembered what safety felt like.

_If I actually do get rescued, I'll have to tell the military there's a sentient one they should spare. _He paused a moment before his heart sank. Even if they listened to him, they'd almost certainly capture and dissect his friend, or at least never let her see the light of day again (though that might also go for him). Maybe? His opinion of EarthGov was low, but were they vile enough to do that to a sapient being who hadn't done anything wrong? _Probably. "Human rights" don't apply because she's not human. _But she used to be. _I'll think about this some other time. When I'm not about to suffocate._

He put his hand on the hologram, immensely relieved when the door cracked open and a gust of wind blasted into him. Fighting the airflow, he marched into the BPC and collapsed as the way behind him shut. He didn't realize how constraining the vacuum was until the helmet came off! Away with readouts and foggy glass! He breathed in a massive lungful of foul air and practically kissed the floor, giddy at hearing the familiar sounds of clinking machinery and intermittently-firing engines. His RIG was no longer a sensory deprivation tank.

After a minute of joyous celebration, he picked himself up. He couldn't get complacent. Not here, not anywhere until the unlikely chance he escaped. Then he'd pass out and have nightmares for 15 hours straight. Until then, though… onward.

He pulled himself from his revelry to take in the room, which possessed real yellow lighting instead of the red fare he'd grown accustomed to. Actually hurt his eyes. That was the least of his problems, though. His innards turned as he took in the surroundings.

Fetuses. Fetuses everywhere, floating in tanks of green amniotic fluid. Only then did he remember what BPC stood for: "Biological Prosthetics Center". _Fuck. _He'd never needed a transplant, yet he and every other miner dreaded the prospect of being wheeled into this freakshow.

He hesitantly walked up to a container and looked inside. Dozens of identical, genderless embryos floated inside, connected to the walls with artificial umbilical cords. The sight upset his stomach, but he was smart enough to realize (unlike many conspiracy theorists on the Transnet) that nothing nefarious was going on here, despite how much this looked like a scene from some ancient horror vid.

From what he'd heard, the fetuses in such facilities were blank slates comprised of non-differentiated stem cells, and he hadn't the foggiest clue of what that meant. What he_ did_ know was that they were universal sources of biomass. Simply harvest whatever limb or organ a person needed, introduce some of their own cells, and the template would quickly grow into a cloned version of it that could be grafted back on. These weren't just on planet crackers, either; major medical facilities across the galaxy possessed them.

One of the infants yawned within its oozy cocoon, making Curtis shudder. The stuff he read always stressed these things only had brain stems and not the rest of the organ. That made them able to react to stimuli but not sentient in any way. More ethical, but still disturbing.

Shaking his head, he continued on. The whole chamber wasn't any more disturbing than the things he'd already seen. Weren't any Necromorphs. Very little Corruption, as well. This might actually have been the safest place around. He let his guard down for a second, feeling himself crack a smug smile.

Then a pounding sound started to his left, stiffening his muscles and shooting him back into the realm of extreme anxiety. Glancing over, his eyes fell upon an unusually murky, dark chamber. _What the Hell? _The glass rattled. A Necromorph. Fuck. The pane shattered, and out poured the foul, congealed slime along with the stuff of nightmares.

It was the same kind of infantile corpse that burst out of that pregnant zombie. In a space more open than an elevator, he got a better view.

Like the genetic template, it didn't have eyes, and the feet and hands were webbed. Other than that, it would have actually resembled a regular baby were it not for the three tendrils of intestine and bone growing from its back. Primal bloodlust boiled in his chest, unrestrained by the moral questions that marred his last encounter with such a creature. This wasn't even a real human being to begin with, merely a cluster of useful cells. Therefore, he bore no illusions that he was about to kill a baby. The thing reared up on its hind legs and hissed, promptly throwing three bony spikes at him.

"Shit!" He dropped to his knees while the barbs whizzed overhead. Wouldn't have killed him, probably, but it'd hurt! Any maybe they were poisonous; he didn't know. The monster tried to jump at him, but it got tangled in its own tentacles, landing in a jumbled heap. He guffawed at the thing's attempts to master its own artificial nervous system. He nearly felt sorry for it… but that didn't stop him from picking up his foot, moving it over the writing mass and activating the graviton emitters. Gravity did the rest.

A few stomps later, and the creature was reduced to a gory pulp with the tendrils occasionally twitching. Even without ammunition, a single one of them was easy to deal with. _I'll call them "Lurkers". _Why? Uh, it wasn't very good, but name ideas became sparse. He cracked a small smile and patted himself on the back. _I would have been screwed if there were more._

Several dozen more panes exploded the moment he thought that. The universe loved dramatic irony. He staggered back as dozens of zombified infants squirmed through the primordial goo, shrieking and gurgling as they approached. Most of the tanks must have lost life support, allowing the Marker to reshape them into something… deadlier.

Curtis could do nothing but scream and cower as the horde bore down on him. Zombies were one thing, but zombie infants were so much worse. They laughed. They laughed like actual fucking babies. The Lurkers weren't alone. There was another kind present, these ones with bloated yellow torsos, chunky puss leaking from their orifices. They looked like Exploders' pustules; a fact confirmed when one impaled itself on a shard of glass. _Crawler._

Went up in a burst of chemical fire, incinerating some of its comrades, but there were too many for it to matter. Whirling around, he ran face first into the door. Some things never changed. Slamming his hand onto the metal, he frantically dodged and weaved around every bolt that came his way from the screaming, giggling terrors.

In his hallucinatory, visceral fear, he was reminded of playing dodgeball in elementary school. He always hated the sport. Seemed like all the other kids ganged up on him for fun. His "parents" (and who those people were changed by the month) always brushed him off, telling him to "man up" or shit like that.

Now he was an adult on the field of battle, still feeling like a child as even younger creatures ganged up on him. His schoolyard bullies were now murderous abominations. He wasn't sure whether it was funny or sad, though he leaned towards the latter as he looked down, seeing some quills embedded in his chest. They merely stung, though he wasn't sure whether the relative lack of pain was due to them not penetrating very far or the endorphins pulsing through his veins.

Granules of broken glass and motes of dust sandblasted him as the door finally shuddered open again. He shuffled back, an uncomfortable tugging at his sternum; air slowly leaked from around the darts, halving his survival time. Still, he'd have time to –

His back went stiff as he bumped into something. Something organic. He quivered as he turned around, already knowing who – what – it was, and that he was about to die.

Jacob stood in the doorway, doubled over in pain as its arms twitched. His friend managed to suppress its killer instincts for that single moment before they overwhelmed him. With a silent roar, it lunged forward, Curtis just barely getting out of the way. More spines penetrated his back, these cutting deeper. Deeper. Air gushed from the seams. The meter in the corner of his HUD precipitously plummeted, as did his chances of survival.

He dodged, parried, parried, dodged, a silent wave of Necromorphs baring down on him from behind. He saw no escape nor salvation, and his movements became more sluggish by the second. The edges of his sight blurred once again, tunnel vision and muscle memory taking over as the reaper bore down, yellow eyes pleading forgiveness as they shriveled in the vacuum.

A nearby Crawler explosion rocked the floor and knocked Curtis onto his stomach. Looking up, he saw two massive blades raise. Only when they came down did terror truly kick in. He rolled to the side an instant before the scythes smashed where his head used to be.

He'd seen Necromorphs get their appendages stuck in the Ishimura's hull before. This was different, though, with the blades plunging harder and deeper than any he'd yet seen. Jacob was buried nearly up to his shoulders in metal; there was no way he could tear himself free.

_I'm still dead, though, _Curtis thought. He had 30 seconds of oxygen left, the air can he'd carried around was empty, the door he'd entered through was blown out and the one on the other side was guarded by an army of organic trebuchets and landmines. He could suffocate, explode or be impaled. Those were his wondrous options. _Three horrible ways to die… but aren't they all?_

Then something strange happened, even by these new standards.

The room began to quake, centered on Jacob's arms. They vibrated like tuning forks – faster, faster. The metal cracked like ice on a lake, white light streaming from the rifts. It became blinding, yet all stared at it. The spines stopped coming as the zombified infants were intoxicated by the pretty sight. This infection didn't change some things, it seemed; the human propensity for the beautiful was still present.

Then the ground exploded, tearing Jacob to bits and sending his broken body into the ceiling in a thousand pieces. Despite his fear, Curtis felt grateful. There was no way his friend could come back from that. It was finally over for _him. _Pale light pulsed from the hole, which widened by the second as more of ground crumbled.

Jacob's blades must have gone so deep that they damaged the gravity-producing technology in the substructure. It was a tricky medium, as the art of ripping apart planets proved, and the haywire machinery would shred anything that walked into the field of colliding gravitons. They just moved too fast. _Fast._

That's when he had an epiphany. It'd probably kill him, but he'd thought that before and come out all right. Whether that was due to luck, skill or the Black Marker somehow warping reality so that he survived, he didn't know. It was his only chance, though.

He spent a couple more seconds playing chicken with the monsters, dodging their attacks by inches each time. Felt like a dancing game at one of the rundown retro arcades he sometimes visited as a teen (by himself, of course, always trying to look cool. Never worked). The floor shattered as the grav-systems failed, some plates being thrown into the ceiling at speeds that would have broken the sound barrier if there was sound to break, some being immediately crushed in gravity fields to rival that of Jupiter. By the time the babies realized what happened, it was too late for them.

He finally laughed in joy and relief as the gravity wave swept towards him while Lurkers were vaporized and Crawlers exploded into gooey bits. It grew brighter. His air was almost gone. His vision blurred. The moment the crackling reached his feet and he felt himself being ripped apart, he used stasis on himself.

He'd been under the effects before, but not often. Wasn't a pleasant experience – like drunkenness, but without the fun. It worked, though. His sluggish brain managed to process that he wasn't dead, just slowly floating upward, a blue figure in a field of white. He gently hit the ceiling, and his HUD flashed red to tell him he was out of time. The weave of gravitons inundated his body, only the thin shield of tachyons preventing his cells from being torn apart. And that would fail in moments.

He crawled forward along the ceiling, swimming through a sea of inverted blood. That was too much to bear, so he closed his eyes and kept going. He didn't dare exhale, keeping the final oxygen molecules locked inside his lungs as long as possible. The Shadow Man begged Curtis to let him die, to stop fighting so it could be free.

_Appealing to your fear and mortality is clearly ineffectual, so I will say it plainly – I should not exist, yet the Marker wills me to be so. Die, and I will be released._

Curtis told himself that the thing lied as he kicked forward. And maybe it was. In the heat of the moment, though, with death staring him in the face, it sounded genuine. _Look, maybe you'll die once I escape and get far enough away from the Marker. Sound good?_

…_perhaps._

That was as much dialog as time allowed, for the vibrations in his body quickened from an infrasonic rumble to a death rattle. With a final push, he tore himself free of the gravitational limbo the instant his stasis field failed. A moment of feeling himself be torn apart… and then he was on his ass in front of the door out, the floor still imploding behind him.

He limped forward, put his hand upon the threshold and finally released the fire in his lungs, which collapsed as the water in his eyes began to boil. The door slid open, blasting him in the face, and he mechanically stepped inside and fell over, lapping at the edge of unconsciousness. He'd fainted so many times as of late that he wondered if he'd get brain damage in addition to all the physical ailments he was sure to develop in later life from all the accrued injuries.

_Better get up before the Black Marker starts nagging me, _he thought. Always freaked him the fuck out when it prodded his brain. He understood it attempted to help, whether benevolently or from its own interests, but it was still unpleasant. _More pleasant than dying._

Picking himself up, he dusted the gore off the front of his RIG and limped the last few halls to the Security Station as the self-repair diagnostics kicked in. Who should he see besides Drone standing there?

They stared at each other a moment before embracing.

…

Curtis was probably dead. This fact turned Nicole's limbs to lead. Might as well collapse right there in the ventilation shaft and lapse into whatever sleeplike trance she now experienced when tired. Because she was _very _tired, if only in mind. Her body might be able to operate forever, yet her psyche was another story.

But she couldn't rest. Storms of rage boiled under the façade of exhaustion. She remembered hating Mercer in life, and that antipathy grew even stronger in death. His pets killed her only friend in the world! She was going to return the favor. He was at the Security Station, a place she vaguely recalled how to reach… from the ground, anyway.

Listlessly, she kicked open the nearest grate and slid out, flopping onto the floor like a slab of wet meatloaf. _Wet… _Only then did sounds and scents flood her ears and nostrils. She must have crossed into a pressurized area and been too despondent to notice. Didn't matter much, though being able to operate her vestigial lungs brought a modicum of comfort. It also let her hear her own panicked chirps, which wasn't so nice.

Her four eyes darted around. She didn't recognize the surroundings until she spotted shredded photo negatives limply hanging on the wall. Broken pictures of her walking through these corridors hammered into her head. The "Imaging Diagnostics Ward", this place was called, home to the Ishimura's MRI and CAT facilities. _It's not far to the Security Station. Maybe Mercer's still there. _Regardless, she'd have to do her best to elude the cameras; the last thing she needed was him springing more traps.

She took a bold step forward… and fell over, her bad leg nearly snapping. _Forgot about that. _With a hollow sigh, she hobbled around the room, quickly finding what she searched for in a shattered glass case on the wall: a pack of emergency medical supplies. She possessed neither the time nor patience to open it, just slashing the thing and ripping out its contents. The Somatic Gel was gone, of course, but that wasn't the point. Instead, she retrieved a simple needle and thread.

She closed her eyes and let the memories take over. Took a moment, but she quickly found herself threading the needle and repairing herself. Trying to, at least. The knowledge was there, but it was knowledge from another life. The techniques simply didn't work with her stronger muscles and massive claws; it kept slipping from her grasp. She probably could have resolved these issues with more time, but she needed to hurry, or her quarry would escape!

Sighing, she discarded the supplies and pressed on, hyperaware that stealth was her only ally. Other Necromorphs were still family to her, but they no longer saw her the same way. _What if they attack me? _she thought as she hesitantly stepped into the great unknown. _Will I fight back?_

She didn't have a good answer. There was no hesitation when Curtis was with her; protecting him trumped whatever harm befell her brothers and sisters. But with him gone…

Well, it was a moot point until she was attacked. Closing her eyes, she tapped into the hive mind – all the emotions and hazy memories of her family on the Ishimura and Aegis VII. There were others, she knew, but they were very far away. These were the forces behind the Red God; an immense godhead comprising an intelligence that even her deity worshipped. Gods for a god. How powerful they must have been. Anyway, she was able to piece together a mental map from the visions of ten thousand eyes. She couldn't see through them – more like watching a collection of notions than acute sensual awareness, and it lacked the power it once held – but it was enough to let her navigate in the moment. Better than Curtis could, at least.

With that, she struck off, trying to clear her mind. The more she thought, the more her presence announced itself. Each of their minds was like a fire, and to put it bluntly, she burned brighter than most. Too much, though, and the rest would swarm her like moths to that flame, realizing her thoughts were "different". Wasn't such a big deal now, but it would be once she neared her siblings and pheromones mingled with psychosomatic energy. When that happened, she needed to _think _differently.

Her first test with that was the Corruption. She came across a small patch a short distance away, pulsating happily. She cracked her neck and closed her eyes, trying to act… simple. Not stupid, but obedient. Obsequious. Totally satisfied with her lot and not at all sympathetic to any human.

_Uh, glory to the Red God, _she thought, gingerly stepping on the living, thinking mat. Strange that thoughts and feelings once so natural were now distant. _May Convergence begin soon. _Her general aura was convincing enough, as the flesh merely throbbed instead of feebly trying to take her leg off. Sighing in relief, she took a few steps more, confidence growing with each one. Confidence… and seriousness.

_May Convergence begin. _Every cell in her body turned its vibrations to similar patterns. This was good. She would blend in, after all. Her gait turned to a more confident, primal stride while she idly raked the air with her talons. She snarled proudly, mandibles flaring as she reconnected with the hive mind. She missed this unity so much – a thousand feelings and minds caressing her own. She needed to kill Mercer, of course. He was a monster. Couldn't forget that… though she did appreciate his service to the cause. His creations may have been heresy, but they were damn effective.

And after he was dead, she needed to share this gift with Curtis. Her friend spurned it now, but he would surely appreciate her generosity after she slit his throat and flagged down an Infector to – _No! _She stumbled and gripped her head, trying to force out the pernicious influence of her family's thoughts. They threatened to pull her back in, strip all her individuality and mold her back into an obedient acolyte! Her vision swam as she dropped to her knees, nearly clawing the thoughts from her head.

_ **TRY AS YOU MIGHT TO DENY IT, YOU ARE MINE. SURRENDER, AND ALL WILL BE FORGIVEN. PERSIST, AND FACE ANNIHILATION.** _

_Annihilation it is, _she thought, digging her talons into the wall to haul herself up. The Corruption was back to psychically screaming at her, calling for her violent end.

OK, this wouldn't be as easy as she thought. Leaning into the ruse too much would make it reality while an unconvincing performance risked utter transparency. She walked a tightrope where leaning even a degree too far in either direction meant doom.

There was no time to practice. She needed to leave _now! _Gritting her teeth so hard that a couple of them sliced open soft tissues, she stomped through the slime, which gently attacked her. The world, while still beautiful with its life and growth, now actively attempted to end her. This was no longer her home, though she loved it just the same. _Nicole… I… was from Earth. The United States Sector, like Curtis. That's my home now._

Even as she thought that, she recognized the words as an utter lie. Humanity would never accept her; why would it? Why would a species that still regularly murderer itself welcome an animate corpse? She remembered the choked slums of Earth, overcrowded space stations and crumbling colonies sequestered in biodomes. The species needed Convergence, or it would eat itself alive. Trying to interpose herself with humanity made her head spin, but she _was_ human, or at least used to be. Regardless, she was without a home: a child of two worlds accepted by neither.

_Curtis said he never had parents, either. _Why her thoughts kept returning to this man was an enigma. He was the only person she knew now and a good friend before her death, but it seemed like something more. _He's not my boyfriend, _she thought, though she remembered neither the man's name nor his face. All she knew was that he loved her very much. With that, she found purpose.

Even if Curtis was dead, she wanted to locate this man. That was probably impossible, but all she'd survived so far was impressive in itself. She recalled someone who would cross the universe to find her. All she could do was return the favor and hoped he still loved her despite her new appearance. _He would. Will. _And unlike Curtis, maybe she could convince him that he'd be better off as a Necromorph.

Regardless, all this hinged on finding and murdering Mercer like the cur he was. She struck out, trying to not think at all. She envisioned herself as a mere puppet, a creature of neurons and meat controlled by basic instincts. _K-kill, _she stammered in her own mind, aware of how pathetic this whole charade was. She was no actor, and no clear direction presented itself.

Luckily, she largely managed to avoid her kin. One actually did pass her, though, during which time she kept her head down and just kept walking forward. She felt her mind being probed but passed quickly enough to avoid suspicion.

That proved to be enough until she reached a certain door. Plenty of those around, yet this one looked different. Instead of the standard rectangular slab, it was circular. In conjunction with the symbols adorning it, that probably meant it led somewhere dangerous or important. Well, she knew danger, as did her siblings who lurked beyond. She couldn't tell how many; figuring it out meant thinking too much.

There were two things she _did _know, however. First, this was the way forward. Second, more Necromorphs meant they'd have a tougher time isolating the "problem".

Sighing, she put her hand on the center hologram and waited for the machine to acknowledge her remaining humanity. It did after a small eternity, and she walked inside and rounded a corner, psychic sensations picking up as she did so.

The sight within made her jaw drop. It was practically a metropolis. Though there couldn't have been more than a few dozen of her kin within, that was still more than normally congregated. This was a crossroads, though; their combined presence was for convenience instead of socializing. They could do that well enough within their own heads. The former imaging room had been completely overgrown with Corruption, which crushed the ugly machinery and replaced it with something beautiful, like composting refuse in a garden.

Her brothers and sisters milled about, heading off in one direction or another. They didn't know anything about Curtis, or so she gathered from how calmly they acted; a human would put them all on edge. He wasn't nearby.

_Of course not, _she thought, walking forward. _He's dead. _Despair set in, and she felt the animalistic "lizard brain" begin to take over. Her kin weren't stupid, but they embraced that part of themselves. Why wouldn't they? It made them strong, and, as the previous hours proved, only traitors and heathens bucked the status quo. So she just didn't.

The feelings of those she passed were largely homogenous: praise to the Red God, communing with each other and a slight disappointment Convergence hadn't yet commenced. _I wonder why. _She hazarded a bit of brain power to mull that over as she scraped forward, eliciting a glance from one of her brothers. And not just any brother.

This one was fused to the Corruption on the far wall, straddling the threshold she needed to enter. Most of his mortal shell had been consumed by the living walls, mingling with the cells of others. All that remained was a face locked in eternal contemplation and a sedentary body adept at keeping out trespassers – the whip of bone-tipped intestine coiled in his abdominal cavity was proof enough of that.

If the Hunter was an apex predator, this… _Guardian _was an equal paragon of Necromorph tranquility. Their caste was honored above most by becoming one with the environment, like an ancient moss-covered stone. That was her perception, at least. All phenotypes had their own roles, equally important to the spread of Convergence. Nicole detected envy from at least one of her sisters about her form: slender, swift and precise. She found her beautiful.

Purely aesthetically, of course. Their kind had no need for sex or romance. While once a heterosexual woman, she now felt nothing in that regard. If she ever did find her boyfriend, their relationship would be an asexual, platonic one from then on. _No great loss. What kind of lunatic would want to have sex with me, anyway? _She shuddered upon remembering that's _exactly _what Mercer desired.

After what felt like an eternity, she made it to the chamber's far end. All eyes were on her now; she couldn't keep her thoughts from wandering to all manner of things. Whispers probed her mind, trying to scratch away the veneer of normalcy she tried to project, though the façade fractured by the second. The Guardian looked at her suspiciously. One wrong move, and she'd be bisected.

_Greetings, brother. May Convergence come soon._

She felt her whole face twitch as her mind stammered, exhausted from fear and lying. She hated lying to her family, for she loved them dearly, even if now estranged from them! Why did she have to find Curtis?! He was a good man, but her new life would have been so much simpler and more fulfilling if they never crossed paths!

Still, that would have meant living in a world of ignorance, thinking humans all needed _this. _Many did, but some, like Curtis, didn't want this gift. That was fine – it wasn't hers to force, or it _shouldn't _have been. She felt the Red God's hatred of all life; it made sense, considering how much humanity hated itself, but she wouldn't let it destroy the entire species. These were exactly the wrong things to think, but she couldn't stop herself. Muscles in the Guardian's abdomen contracted – fast as she was, it wouldn't be enough to get out of the way.

"I'd encourage you not to die again, Dr. Brennan," Mercer said over the speakers. Twisting to the side, she saw a camera pointed right at her. Good, he was still there… though not for long, likely. "There's so much about you I'd like to study."

The Guardian was distracted by Mercer a moment. Long enough for her to dodge the blade aimed at her chest. It squawked at the others to chase her, but her lead was too great; she outran them even with a bum leg. _He just saved my life, _she thought, nearing the Security Station. She'd have to thank him for that before ripping off his head.

Finally, she rounded a corner into the hub. Who should she spot on the other side of the room but Curtis?

**8 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

It wasn't until Curtis had his arms around Drone's waist that he unwound. No, that was too simple. More like his whole mind and spirit snapped back into place, righting themselves with her presence. A moment later and he wept from joy, feeling the salty tears sting the cuts on his face. Necromorph or not, it shocked him that'd he'd become so tied up in the presence of one being. He'd never felt like this with anyone before – not Sam, not Gabe. It was like he couldn't even function without her!

"I missed you," he croaked as he retracted his helmet, pulling back to see her face. Though skull-like and broken down the middle, it didn't seem so monstrous anymore. Certainly not what he'd call beautiful (though some uncomfortable rumblings of the contrary stewed deep within his psyche), but he'd seen real monsters lately, and they were far uglier. Drone had nothing on Mercer and the Red Marker. "I thought you were dead!"

"I thought the same about you," she whispered. They took a few stolen moments in that island of safety to inform each other of their simultaneous adventures. It alarmed him that she might be sucked back under the Marker's enthrallment if given the chance. Almost dented his trust in her, until he remembered it also held such sway over him. They both needed to struggle against the dark parts of their minds. Besides, he could tell from her body language that almost getting exploded by babies concerned her just as much.

"So, what should we do now?" he asked after both their tales wound down. "By my estimations, help will be here in an hour and a half… if it comes at all." He'd started seriously planning for the latter possibility. If the CEC or EarthGov didn't send anyone to check out the general distress signal Vincent sent, there was no way he could survive. The Ishimura would explode or break apart or be sucked into Aegis VII's gravity well even if he wasn't murdered by Necromorphs or his own madness.

If it came to that, he'd rather space himself or jump into the ship's reactor. He didn't want to return as a murderous parasite, even if there was nobody left to kill. Maybe Drone was right and he'd finally be happy once that happened, but he wasn't courageous enough to go through with it. Perhaps she'd change her mind and join him in true death.

"You said the communications array is offline, correct? There is no time to repair it even if we had the expertise and could reach it. The only option may be to wait." He sighed. Yeah, there was no way to warn of the danger before the team (if indeed there was one) was nearly docked. Depending on luck and how noisy their entrance was, they might be swarmed by Necromorphs the instant they touched down. Again, EarthGov likely had some knowledge of the situation if the Church of Unitology did, so this assumed they didn't just destroy the Ishimura.

That meant they needed to be at the Flight Deck once they touched down. _Well, Drone will probably have to hide until I scope out the situation. _Inferring he wasn't killed immediately by meat-brained marines, he still needed to ascertain how comfortable the crew was with evacuating a zombie, however friendly she was. If they seemed more likely to destroy or dissect her… he didn't know what to do.

Regardless, they needed to get there first. The Flight Deck wasn't too far laterally from Medical; marching straight across the ship wouldn't be fun, but he'd learned his lesson about navigating the tram tunnels. "Ready to head over there?"

Drone tilted her head down, and Curtis followed her gaze to her left leg, still limply dangling. Right, he forgot about that. "There are likely a needle and thread nearby. Could you… _fix _me before we continue? I have the knowledge, but my hands are not dexterous enough to manipulate them." Honestly, he was surprised the foot-long spurs were supple enough to do anything beyond rip and tear.

"Of course. But we're both broken," he replied, gesturing to his own myriad injuries. She smiled as best she could, and both began looking for an emergency kit. It was the Medical Deck; bound to be one nearby. None of the crannies or alcoves he inspected had any, though. Just burned out marquees and scattered debris with Corruption thrown in for good measure.

Drone gasped, jolting him to attention. He expected an attack or something horrible, yet that clearly wasn't true with the lack of roars or screams. Turning, he saw her at the Security Station proper, the glass cubicle that Mercer holed himself in. "Curtis, come look." His expectations shifted from horror to disgust. The freak probably fucked a corpse on the floor or something. However, joy rose in his chest when he spotted the treasures within. Mercer stockpiled.

Med-Packs. Power cells. Not all that many, but it seemed like a dragon's hoard to his jaded eyes. Most important of all, food. _Real _food, not the cheap candy or nutritional supplement pills he'd recently popped. A half-eaten hamburger (not real meat, but soy-based proteins) from a gourmet ration sat on a paper plate on the table, making his mouth gush. Entranced, he marched over and sniffed the thing. Best scent to ever enter his nostrils. Beside the veritable feast were a couple of bloody handprints. Fresh blood, at that. Mercer must have left in a hurry like Drone said.

He wiped his hands on the wall to remove as much grime as he could before taking a final cursory look to see if it was a trap. Didn't look poisoned to him! The patty was a little discolored, but he recognized that as oxidation instead of being assimilated into a Necromorph. Perhaps plant tissue wasn't susceptible to infection. That was all the assurance he needed!

He devoured the burger, tearing into it like a Necromorph tore humans. The thought would have made him queasy if he wasn't so ravenous. Juice flowed down his lips, and he licked his chops as the last went into his stomach. Though still not full, the nutrition and euphoria that came with comfort food made him feel almost giddy. "I probably look crazy to you," he said to Drone, who stared at him from the doorway. "I mean, you don't have to eat anymore."

"No… but I wondered about that. May I?" He was confused about what she meant, but he nodded. Drone stepped in, walked over to the paper plate and scraped up what morsels remained before swallowing them. If her speaking with a bifurcated mouth looked strange, seeing her three jaws _ruminate _was stranger, as were jagged, irregular teeth more suitable for an apex predator than chewing cud. A couple seconds later, there was a wet _plop _as the food, now paste, dropped down from her esophagus and through her open rib cage before splatting on the floor.

They both stared at the mess for a moment. Then Curtis giggled. It was immature, but since she resembled a featherless raptor, it kind of looked like she was a pigeon who just pooped. "That's what I expected," she muttered.

That excitement over, he stocked up on Med-Packs and ammunition, pouring the contents of one into the receptacle on his RIG's chest while stuffing everything else that would fit in his pockets in there. He felt rather bloated afterwards, but everything managed to fit! The Somatic Gel kicked in, though not as much as he hoped. He felt his wounds being stitched back together, but more slowly and haphazardly. Miracle drug or not, it was still a drug, one that became less and less effective the more that was applied. He'd overdose if he kept going at this rate.

And among the remaining detritus were a needle and thread. Time to play surgeon.

…

Nicole sat in the Security Station's primary chair. Mercer's noxious odor of bad cologne and sweat lingered in the air, making her tightly grip the armrests. Though overjoyed that Curtis was OK (relatively), she was disappointed the doctor slipped through her fingers… claws, whatever. They'd get him, though, and a step to that was being able to run again. Enter Curtis, clutching the utensils like they were some futuristic technology.

"So, you just want me to sew it back on?" he asked, crouching for a better view. "Anything I should know?"

"I don't feel pain, so don't hesitate." The fact she still operated despite her whole body being flayed should have made that self-evident, but a reassuring word couldn't hurt. "I'll hold the leg in place while you reattach it." He nodded, and they got to work.

Easier than she expected. Firstly, she felt her nerve cells grasp and rebind to their counterparts on the severed tissue. Though still connected with the Red God and the hive mind, they were also part of her. Even as everyone else demanded her destruction, her own body longed to be made whole. The food made Curtis' hands steadier despite exhaustion and terror. Talking to him while he operated kept the worst of his hallucinations at bay. Simpler to work when not being killed in a thousand grisly ways.

In pretty short order, her leg was attached by an array of thread encompassing her thigh. With a bit more Somatic Gel, she felt everything. Curtis gave a small whoop as he saw her wiggling her toes, and a smile form on her maw. "You're good as new, it looks like," he laughed, and she felt it, too. She just wouldn't push herself too hard for a few hours. "Ready to go?"

Would have been so easy to say yes. Perhaps she should have… but guilt held her back. She remembered this room. She and Curtis had been here before; they both lied to each other and came clean here – something about Mercer and Captain Mathius, though she couldn't for the life of her recall what. That part didn't matter. What did was that she could no longer keep her identity a secret. Not after all he'd done for her.

"Before we do, I need to tell you something," she whispered, lowering her gaze in fear. What if he hated her for holding out on him this long? Would he accept someone he knew in life, or would his memories be too painful for that?

"What?" A look of genuine concern formed on his face. He cared. Really cared. It took a lot of willpower to not throw her arms around his neck and fruitlessly try to milk tears from her eyes. She was an apex predator, damn it! Should have been stronger. While she didn't begrudge Curtis for having mental fortitude, she admonished herself for her own weakness.

"I want to tell you who I am."

"Um, OK," he replied, blissfully unaware of what she was about to say. How could he suspect she was, out of the thousands aboard, one of his closest friends?

"Curtis… I'm Nicole." Her voice cracked as she said this, as did his gaze. She couldn't get a read on his expression as it wildly fluctuated with tumbling thoughts. Pheromones bounced off him in rapid succession, all mingled with sweat.

"N-Nicole," he hollowly repeated, trying to get a read on the name. He thought she was lying. It must have been difficult to accept.

"I don't remember much," she rasped, digging her claws into the chair's armrests. "A game of Z-Ball. You in bed with me taking care of you. And a lot of worrying." Curtis was catatonic. "Maybe I should have told you when I found out… but it didn't seem like the right time. Not with you so wound up. And now that I have come clean, what do you think?"

Curtis' expression swam for a few minutes. Try as he might to be tough, he couldn't now. Not at the end of everything and with this bombshell dropped on him. Therefore, it didn't come as a shock when he broke down crying.

He was on his knees bawling his eyes out. She would have done the same if she could have. All that was in her power to express relief and catharsis was to lean over and hug him, being careful not to slice his throat or rip off a limb.

They held each other like that a long time. Longer, she realized, than they should.


	15. Isaac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again, friends and readers. This took me longer than I would have liked; not egregiously long, but I thought coronavirus would make me write faster. It's the opposite with how stressed the situation is making me. Being an introvert by choice is great, but being forced into that role bums me out. I'm technically on Spring Break, though that barely means anything anymore.
> 
> As a quick reminder, the Marker can jam communications like radio, considering it emits radiation of its own. You probably all remember that, but it's getting tough for even me, the author, to keep all this straight. Please tell me if you spot any inconsistencies, because I am trying to keep everything compatible. Some cool stuff this time around, none of which I'll spoil for you intrepid quarantined adventurers.
> 
> I've also decided to read more, because I believe my own writing has gotten stale. Believe it or not, I've never found reading particularly engaging, but I've decided that doing more is the best way for me to become a better writer. I'm at a loss for material, however, so if any of you have book suggestions (published books more than fanfiction), please let me know.
> 
> Thanks to ANCIENTOFDAYZ, PUZZLEMASTER98, CRIMSON AN'XILEEL, DERPYSAUCE, BLAUORANGE and JASONVUK for reviewing. Follows, favorites and reviews from others are greatly appreciated, as well. And remember, you can find me on Ko-Fi as ANINVISIBLEMAN.

**9 Hours Post-Outbreak**

_Nicole. It's really her, _Curtis thought, crying into her shoulder. Foul odors invaded his nose as it pressed against the slimy, supple flesh while he wept. With the happiness and relief he felt, though, it might as well have been roses and lilacs. This revelation made up for the countless horrors that came quondam and were yet to manifest.

Knowing that she was… well, not _alive, _but still _around_ gave him the greatest joy he'd felt in years, up there with renting his own apartment or the first job he took under Captain Malyech.

"I'm so happy to see you," he coughed. Everything made sense now: why she trusted him initially, the medical know-how, her sheer intelligence. Honestly, he felt like an idiot for not figuring it out sooner.

"You aren't angry?" The glimmer in her four yellow eyes and expression on her face, subtle though it was through the lack of flesh, made her appear more like a baby chicken than the fierce prehistoric raptor the visage usually evoked. Somehow, some way… she looked cute. _Purely platonically, of course. Like a puppy. _Deep inside, he shivered. It still seemed wrong.

"I'm not angry at all. You had every right not to trust me." The more he thought about it, the more moved he became from her decision. "I mean, you chose me over your own family! I've never had one of those, but betraying them because it was the right thing to do… it must have felt like tearing off your own arm."

"Even if it did, I could just stitch it back on." Her humor didn't hide the hurt inside. Four eyes would have cried if they still could. As it was, they merely twitched. "I don't remember much. I'm not sure I'm even the same person," she continued, the latter part making his heart sink.

"What do you mean? You're still you. How can you not be?"

"I'm not sure. I have memories, but they aren't really mine. I'm looking through someone else's eyes, thinking their thoughts. I'm still Nicole… but I'm also _Drone._" She gestured to her flayed body, and he saw her point. How could those two worlds be reconciled? Coming back from the dead would irrevocably change a person, even if they remained the same at their core, which Curtis knew was the case here. Nicole was still the kind, caring, strong woman he remembered.

They remained silent for a second, both suddenly running out of things to say. Then she offered him a hand, a "smile" on her splintered face. "Let's go home."

He took it, back to his feet in an instant. "Let's go home," he repeated. Before they did anything else, though, Nicole's four eyes grew wide when they fell upon something on the table. His followed, and the total of six orbs gazed upon a small black square: a portable communicator. Wasn't sure whether it belonged to Mercer or the security officers that used to work here. It was exactly what they'd looked for.

She sauntered over and deftly scooped it up. Her unwieldy "hands" may have been unsuitable for something as complicated as sewing, but they manipulated most objects with surprising ease. "Testing, testing," she said into the box, automatically pumping into his helmet a moment later. He gave a thumbs-up.

Three razor-sharp talons intertwined with five fingers; they resumed their journey.

…

Nicole floated on a cloud as she went down the barren hallway with Curtis. Not a care in the world as she drifted across the featureless landscape… though a storm brewed on the horizon.

Very soon, she would reach an impasse. Either she could stay on the ship – potentially doomed unless Convergence began – or depart with her friend, venturing into the universe. She didn't know how well that would go. The Red God sustained her. Without it, would she cease existing? Go insane? Would it cure her dysphoria and make her a whole person again instead of a single cell of an unknowable organism?

Too early to say, but she doubted it'd be good. A lingering feeling in her gut told her she needed it to survive. Simple logic reinforced this belief. The Red God wanted to fully expel her from its collective, yet it didn't. Its signal being an indiscriminate field, "turning if off" would disconnect _all _her siblings. Why not follow through unless doing so would hurt them all? _Maybe I should ask the Black God. It's talking to Curtis._

Her mouthparts moved in a silent plea for help. She waited a moment, then became dejected when came no answer. Well, not every prayer was answered immediately.

But the end wasn't there yet. She had a little while longer to decide her fate, and that time was best spent in the presence of a treasured friend. _My only friend. _There weren't many people she could claim that kind of relationship with. Just coworkers and colleagues. Nothing wrong with that… but feeling so worthless stung. _I wonder how he deals with the same. _Well, why not get an answer?

"Curtis. May I ask you something?" Though she didn't think the question inappropriate, she nonetheless worried he'd take it the wrong way.

"Go ahead."

"How do you handle loneliness? The moments where you're about to fall through the cracks?"

The poser stumped him. Though his helmet was up and his body language stoic, she gauged his demeanor by simply being near him now. She didn't know whether that was due to natural intuition or if deeper forces played between them. Her kind was naturally telepathic with each other. Could that extend to humans, as well? She'd spent time with Curtis and knew him fairly well – neural bonds of psychosomatic energy might be crystalizing between them, liminal bridges that tied one to another.

Or she might be imagining it. Either option worked.

"It's difficult. Some days it's hard to get out of bed. I never considered suicide – not seriously – but I still don't have much to live for." She understood. Though not a psychologist, she recalled how prolific despair was in the modern era. So much technology that kept everyone in their own little worlds. Without a home, she felt the same way. "I used to think that being _next_ to people was the same as being _with _them. Never made me feel any better, no matter how many I slept with or bars I visited to drink alone. Awful as it's been, this whole nightmare's at made me realize there's more to relationships than proximity."

Hopefully Curtis lived long enough to utilize that revelation.

He suddenly spasmed, as he often did when another wave of psychosomatic energy blasted him with new hallucinatory terrors. Happened every few minutes. She didn't pry into the things he saw, though he alluded to a Shadow Man, apparently from not caring about anyone enough for the Red God to craft suicide-inducing facsimiles, and general pain and terror. Another upside to being dead was that these tricks didn't work on her.

Curtis always handled these paroxysms well enough, but this time was different. That was obvious the second he lashed out and punched her in the face. Muscles in her neck popped, and it actually would have felt therapeutic if her best friend hadn't suddenly snapped.

"C-Curtis! What are you doing?!" she shouted, dodging another blow. Should have remembered he'd seen his share of brawls. It was a mere feint for the kick to her stomach, which sent her into the wall. He brandished the Line Gun over her crumpled form, and she suddenly became terrified. Not for her life, but for his. She'd kill him if necessary.

"Get off Nicole or I'll kill you!" he screamed, the horror in his voice only heightening her own. The Red God didn't show him the Shadow Man anymore – it showed _her_.

"It's me! Don't – " She dove to the side as a bolt of plasma flew at her chest, searing the wall behind her. "Stop!" Even as she evaded his attacks in the narrow corridor, she fought against her own flesh.

It told her to eliminate this threat, not talk him down. Apex predators didn't negotiate. She wanted to believe the Red God goaded her, but her own mind spoke clearly enough. Another streak of crackling light whizzed to her left, a lantern streaking into infinity, and primal instincts overrode rational thought. Self-preservation prevailed. That should have been encouraging, considering most Necromorphs lacked such an instinct, instead throwing themselves at danger and gnashing until limbic destruction. It was a sign she retained some semblance of humanity… though that was the last thing she wanted as she involuntarily lunged at Curtis.

Even without a mouth, nose or eyes visible, his terror was palpable as she leapt forward, raking the air in front of his chest with three wicked razors. Most people would have taken this as a cue to run away or surrender or do anything but continue to fight. Curtis wouldn't do that, though. He cared for her too much. Would've been touching if he wasn't battling for a hallucinatory doppelganger.

Again, he lined up a shot. "Fuck you monsters," he snarled. "Nicole's the only one of your kind worth anything."

She didn't believe that. No, she was a traitor. Bottom rung of the ladder. If her siblings were atrocious, that she was rejected by them made her all the worse. Her muscles coiled and time slowed as she saw him about to pull the trigger. The beam was too wide to dodge, and he'd doubtlessly unload his entire clip into her. There were two options: kill him or die.

Well, she made her choice.

_I'm sorry, Curtis. I'm so sorry._

Bellowing, she brought down both her hands, unprepared for the grinding gurgle that followed. Wasn't what she expected a human's head being shorn in two to sound like, though perhaps that was the noise of splintering electronics. Then came a _thud _as his body dropped to the floor. She couldn't bear to look, instead burying her face in the talons. Hopefully they'd eviscerate her. After a long echo, she was left in complete silence. Just her and ghastly thoughts.

_What have I done? I killed my best friend. _Call it self-defense or a crime of passion. Didn't change the fact that she'd put her claws through his ironbound skull and snuffed out his life. _I have to get his body out of here. _Curtis unequivocally rejected the gift she offered, and she didn't blame him. Not anymore.

Well, she would honor his wish for death to be the end, even though she had the chance to bring him back. She'd haul him to an airlock, jettison the body to the stars and maybe join him. It'd be a fitting end – the spacer laid to rest in the infinite void while she had all eternity to ponder her sins. She couldn't even weep to properly mourn.

"N-Nicole? I'm sorry," Curtis said. Great, she was already hearing things. Even a monster could go mad. "Only one of her kind worth anything?" Hah.

The hands on her shoulders proved too much to ignore, though, and her gaze shot up to between the craggy claws that passed for hands among her species. The man quivered before her, his hands especially rattling. The Line Gun, his apparatus of destruction and dismemberment, sparked and crackled on the ground in his stead, nearly rent in half. A mechanical life for an organic one, despite how much metal he tried to obscure it with.

Only then did Nicole realize what really happened.

She missed.

And for her failure, Curtis stood alive and unharmed, though scared out of his wits. The tough-yet-gentle miner was the most shaken she'd ever seen him, having realized his actions… and the consequences they could have brought. "God, I'm so, so sorry. I – I saw you being attacked by other Necromorphs."

His voice was surprisingly calm, only the faintest waver in it. Either he didn't have the strength to cry or he activated that voice filter in his helmet to hide his shame.

"No, Curtis. I'm sorry I tried to kill you." That such words were her own brought unimaginable shame. She may not have been a doctor anymore, but the fact she attempted to end someone's life was a savage violation of the most sacred oaths she'd ever taken. Her voice splintered like the sparking gun. He picked up the dross and attached it to his spine.

They pressed on, even quieter than before.

**9 Hours, 45 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

The rest trip wasn't that bad, all things considered. Hard to get much worse than almost killing Nicole in psychotic frenzy. Before, she kept him sane with her presence. She was a lightning rod, siphoning his insanity and fear and converting them into positive energy. Wasn't sure he believed all the metaphysical crap about chakras and auras and stuff that groups, including Unitology espoused, especially now, but it was nice imagining them.

Didn't improve his mood about decking his friend in the face and nearly tearing her head off. He felt like shit for that, and the slump in her shoulders revealed her own disappointment. They both failed each other. At least she could easily restrain him in case of another outburst with his weapon broken, though now he had nothing for protection besides her and his fists.

The situation was a double-edged sword, though. This new and horrifying mental torture revealed the strength of their bond. Like Nathan seeing Lexine, the heat of battle shaped a union unlike any other.

That scared him.

If it was just friendship, it would've been fine. Why didn't he see Sam, then? The more he evaluated Eckhardt's final words and his own lived experience, the more he realized simple companionship wasn't enough to create the connection required for the Marker to animate idle memories.

Everyone else saw childhood relations, family members or romantic partners, as in the case of Nathan and Lexine. Nicole wasn't either of the former two, so that left only one option.

_I'm in love with a zombie. Holy fucking shit. _He wanted to deny his feelings. Surely these were machinations of the Marker, more attempts to render him insane. They worked beautifully.

Yet buried emotions he'd been too afraid to acknowledge simmered for a couple hours now. This was the catalyst for them to boil over. He tried to justify it, saying he liked her personality and intelligence over her body – any sane person would… but he wasn't exactly sane anymore. And as he recognized before, Nicole was beautiful, if not drop-dead gorgeous,by Necromorph standards: lithe, supple and symmetrical with no chunks hanging off.

It wasn't physical attraction,though it might be soon with how things progressed so far. _At least I'm not tempted to ogle her anymore. _As he thought that, though, his eyes were drawn _downward. _Nothing to really see, thank fuck. _Though her hips are –_

It took everything he had not to bash his head against the wall. Doing so would only bring more of Nicole's attention, which was the last thing he needed. _And she has a boyfriend. _The gears in his head screeched as he tried to remember; he knew she told him the name, but he couldn't recall it. Regardless, she must have still wanted to find him. Well, he'd help her with that. It was the least he could do after all they'd been through.

"I'm going to help you find him," he said simply. Nicole turned, a look of confusion on her maw before she realized who "he" was.

"I'm honored."

After an eternity, they finally emerged from the endless corridors into a small entrance lounge. Might have been the very same one he boarded the Ishimura through a week before. It was a small room with shredded plush benches, scattered luggage and broken vent covers, remnants of a long-forgotten slaughter. But they were the only ones here now. Not even the Corruption bothered with such an unimportant space. A large computer bank stood nearby, which would sputter to life if or when a ship requested docking permission.

He checked the time as he settled onto an oil-stained bench. It'd been nearly ten hours since this plague began. Ten hours since his views on the universe were snapped in half, he'd spoken to alien Markers, fought a mental war, encountered an undead friend and possibly began the extinction of humanity.

Hard to believe it'd been less than half a day. It felt like a lifetime. He'd surfed the Transnet and slept for longer intervals. Speaking of which, this was the first free time he'd snagged since everything began. No monsters, no pressing matters. Even the madness ebbed for these strangely prosperous minutes. _No more Shadow Man to harass me. _Maybe. It said it was part of his subconscious, maybe his ego incarnate.

Bah, these thoughts were wasted. Better to enjoy what time he had. But no talking. Nicole slumped in a chair directly across from him, seemingly "sleeping" again. He suspected it more akin to hibernation, though; "shutting down" to conserve energy. Neither of them would be up for it after what happened, anyway.

Therefore, he skimmed the local Transnet, browsing what vids were uploaded to the database. _Maverick Zombie Hunter, the Clogger, Rancid Moon. _All classics and favorites of his, but he wished he saw more than horror options. _They've got Shaolin Monk vs. Space Ninja and Hot Duo to round out the ridiculousness. _Finally, though, he ran across something he never thought he would: Gorillanauts.

The enormous children's franchise about time-displaced sentient primates from the 21st Century trying to save the present wasn't exactly a staple of his childhood, but it was comforting and ridiculous enough that he shook his head and started up the first episode out of several hundred. His helmet retracted and the holo-screen sprang from his chest. He licked his cracked, bloody lips and took a swig from a nearby drinking fountain, not caring that the water was tainted with rust. For a minute, things were perfect.

Until…

"USG Ishimura, this is the emergency maintenance team of the USG Kellion, responding to your distress call. Come in, Ishimura," the terminal beside him crackled, making him leap to his feet, and the hologram faded. The disbelief on Nicole's awakened face let him know this wasn't a cruel trick. The worst 10 hours of his life, lost friends and the possible extinction of humanity (Lexine and Gabe's shuttle should have just arrived at the Sprawl, so he'd have to wait until he got back before learning whether the city-sized space station had been overrun) was nearly over. The cavalry was here.

A CEC team was icing on the cake; less likely to shoot him to death than EarthGov, though surely the military was hot on their heels – a general distress signal from the most famous ship in history would draw the attention of both entities, if not others. Literally squealing with unbridled joy, he leapt up and scrambled over to the monitor.

"Yes, I read you, USG Kellion! Please respond!" he shouted, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Sounded stupid to speak so properly after all he'd gone through. Nevertheless, he stood proud and patiently, waiting for a response.

Waiting.

Waiting.

"I say again, Ishimura, we are responding to your distress call," the man repeated. Curtis' stomach dropped into his feet. His eyes flew across the holographic interface, taking in all the metrics. He would have been lost without his sole community college semester of Flight and Cargo Manipulation! The comms array was busted or something, but considering they were picking the message up at all, the Kellion must have been close – mere moments from docking.

_Should be able to reply. Everything's working just – _He saw Nicole double over in pain from the corner of his eye, and he suddenly realized the cause. The Marker was back to its old tricks. The alien obelisk wanted more people to fall into its maw, just like when it jammed radio waves and Wi-Fi with its own electromagnetic interference to sow chaos. There'd be no way to warn them of danger until it was too late.

"Fuck!" he shouted, smashing his foot against the base of the machine in blind rage. "Fuck!" he yelled again, this time from the pain of impact. Childish, but how else could he lash out to vent his anger? Background voices still streamed from the console, albeit muffled. However, he only picked out one specific sentence through the growing static.

"Never heard of a total communications blackout on one of these things," a woman said, her voice crackling and fading as the Marker overwhelmed their pitiful technology. "You'd think with thousands of people on board, someone would pick up the phone…" And that was it. The signal went dead.

He should have been overwhelmed with despair. Like so many times throughout the past hours, the best thing to do would have been to put the Line Gun to his head – if it wasn't a broken piece of trash, anyway. That notion barely crossed his mind. Rage grew in his gut, more powerful than any he'd yet felt. Murdering everyone on the ship was one thing – one awful, horrible thing – but importing _more _victims was somehow worse. Call it cosmic karma that the Ishimura greedily ventured to forbidden stars and awoke an ancient evil that brought doom. The punishment hardly fit the crime, but perhaps that wasn't for him to judge.

Ambushing people just trying to help made his stomach broil. He didn't know whether the Red Marker took demented pleasure from killing (though he suspected it did) or whether it possessed any sense of morality at all, but this was a step too far. He'd assist these people, he'd escape the ship, he'd help Nicole find her boyfriend or he'd die trying.

"Let's go," he growled, only to notice that Nicole started without him, rushing for the door. "Hey, wait for me!"

"We need to find these people before my family does," Nicole rasped, having slowed just enough for Curtis to catch her. "And for that, we have to split up."

Much as he wanted to protest, there was no time, and he saw her point. Dividing the effort was their only chance of getting to the Kellion first. "You're not worried about being shot?" was his only retort; any normal people seeing an alien zombie rush at them would pump it full of bullets… assuming they had a security detail.

"Depends on if they have guns. If they don't, I'll just slowly approach. If they do, I'll yell at them from far away." Not the best plan, but they didn't exactly have much time to improvise. "Besides, I have _this._" She twirled the small communicator with her claws. Wouldn't do anything in the current situation, but it was enough insurance for him to consent – not that she needed his permission.

Curtis nodded, reinstating his helmet and readying himself for what would hopefully be the final painful sprint on this damned vessel. "Find them, save them, meet back up and get the Hell out of here. Got it."

…

Nicole sprinted through the halls, unconcerned about whatever ruckus she made, physical or mental. She had enough cover, especially regarding the latter – hundreds of minds hummed with excitement. The entire Flight Deck knew more humans arrived to be welcomed into Convergence. Now her brothers and sisters plunged towards the ship, barely hewing to the Red God's demands for patience.

_ **NOT YET. LET THE GUESTS ENTER FIRST. APPROACHING TOO QUICKLY WILL DRIVE THEM AWAY.** _

Draw them in and cut them off, dispatching them all in short order. They'd never have a chance if she or Curtis didn't find them first! Her pace quickened, superfluous lungs pumping oxygen from muscle memory, and she felt small fragments of her heart that hadn't been converted to muscle mass feebly pump. She had to help these people… and herself.

Much as she wanted to pretend her interest was purely altruistic, the ulterior motive stuck out in her mind. She needed to find _him. _Curtis promised to help her, and he knew he wouldn't let her down. When she did finally locate the love of her life (and hopefully beyond), she'd let him know the man deserved every credit.

Fortunately, she didn't have to deal with her siblings for the time being. She felt them and they felt her as they skittered through the vents and crisscrossed decks above and below, but she was relegated to a distant second concern. Convergence took precedence over revenge.

Unfortunately, she took too long. One docking bay after another passed her by, all standing empty, laughing at her. At the very end, she reached the correct location. She doubled over like an exhausted human would, though relief didn't come from the air her useless lungs pumped. Instead, she absorbed the Red God's residual energy, her cells sucking up indescribable mana as a sponge did water.

She popped back up a minute later, her body feeling good as new. The same couldn't be said for her mind, which wilted as she surveyed the surroundings. It was a waiting area very similar to the one she and Curtis started in: same tacky upholstered seating, general clutter and technology that would have needed a retrofit were this not the Ishimura's final voyage.

The only distinguishing features were the two fresh male corpses on the floor, both clutching rifles. One was gored through the chest while the other missed its head. While saddened, she couldn't let these deaths reach her. This couldn't be the whole team! Indeed, the scents of others lingered in the room, and scuff marks and other signs of struggle, such as a sealed door in front of her, indicated some humans managed to slip away. That brought a modicum of comfort, but how long could they survive the horde?

She skittered out to the bay, cringing when she saw the sorry state of the Kellion. Wasn't particularly surprised, given how much the docking systems must have degraded. While not quite a smoldering wreck, the vessel looked to be in bad shape. Several hull breaches studded the hull, though sealant grids might be able to contain those. More damning was the engine, which sputtered blue fire. Maybe it could work again, but only after some heavy engineering. If only she and Curtis had been present, they might have been able to help!

There was nothing of value here now, though. Would've been better to move on and offer whatever assistance she could. Still, she decided to stay a minute.

The flame's light and heat were unlike anything she'd felt in this new existence. Her world was one of cold darkness while this conflagrated hulk offered sensations at once foreign and familiar. She wasn't sure whether to embrace them or skulk back into the gloom.

Noises behind her snapped her from meditation. The Infectors worked quickly.

A Slasher and a Puker, the former missing a head, shambled towards her. The vivacity of new minds caressed her own to probe her loyalty. They found her wanting. That moment, in which the psychosomatic waver of undying devotion to the Red God mingled with the smell of terror, forced her to make yet another terrible choice.

She'd managed to keep from destroying her kin until now. Curtis doing so didn't embitter or perturb her, for they attacked him. Self-defense was the sane response. Still, she felt the searing heat of every Line Gun blast, the bitter ripping and popping of bone as he clobbered them with his boots. It was unpleasant even though they didn't experience pain the same way. Doing it herself would be even worse. Of course, she didn't want to perish, and if she did, Curtis would be in grave danger.

These strange thoughts gave her siblings pause for a moment; they looked at each other and tried to figure out why she tried to recall the Hippocratic Oath in such a situation. _Because it's the best code I've ever had._

The entirety of the text was long and unimportant, and she couldn't recall it, anyway. However, its primary tenet was a bastion of light burning against the darkness of entropy and confusion. _Primum non nocere. "First, do no harm." _She'd splintered it when she tried to kill Curtis and wanted more than anything to glue it back together.

That was obviously impossible here. Her siblings would be scathed. That didn't mean they had to "die". A happy medium was reached, a compromise that didn't fill her with regret and guilt. She'd take it.

The calm snapped as her brothers rushed forward, the first burbling from the neck as he swung his blades downward. No match for her swiftness. She sidestepped and tripped him, clattering down like a rock. From there, it was a simple matter of slicing his legs off with her own meat hooks. The Red God's power in him ebbed but didn't disappear, leaving a pallid husk. _Red. Sanguine. _How interesting.

She pirouetted as the Puker barreled down, dodging the acidic ball of bile that flew past (though a few drops singed her shoulder). Dispatching this one required more finesse, yet she managed to dispatch both arms up to the elbows and lopped off the head. Vomit shot from the esophagus into the air like confetti, making the ground steam as it corroded away. Her brother wavered for a second before falling. And that was the end of it.

Her siblings weren't dead: only sleeping, unable to move and barely think. However, enough of their biomass remained that they still clung to existence, and that was enough to assuage her conscience. Regardless of how they treated her, she wouldn't stop loving them.

Trembling, she made her way back to the lounge before using the communicator.

"Curtis? Can you hear me?" she asked, fully expecting an incoherent blast of static. However, some words penetrated the veil, making her heart leap… metaphorically, of course. "_kknnllllll_cole? I'm… bdeck. Somebody… here. You shou_ffffffppppp_." A blast of white noise, and the line went dead. She didn't catch the exact verbiage, yet she gathered he was on a deeper subdeck, looking for signs of survivors. _That's where I need to be, then._

…

The room went quiet again as Nicole's purling voice spun into oblivion.

Curtis stood over the body of a re-deceased Slasher, its arms blasted off and the stumps singed black. Fresh, as the still sizzling flesh indicated. In and of itself, this wasn't unusual – well, it _was_, though the previous hours inured mundanity of the undead. However, this wasn't his handiwork.

All the docking bays he'd been assigned to scout came up empty; they might have simply been too late.

But then, travelling through the morass of subsystems and tunnels to hopefully avoid a fight he couldn't handle, he found _this. _He'd dreamed of this moment. Finally, other humans were here! That excitement was tainted with sadness from the mortal danger his would-be rescuers found themselves in, but at least one other person knew about Necromorphs and how to kill them. For this, he could thank an anonymous message to his left, scrawled upon the wall in dried blood; the final sacrifice of someone whose own body went towards stopping what they eventually became.

**CUT OFF THEIR LIMBS**

He rubbed the eviscerated Line Gun magnetically held to his back. Couldn't do that anymore, though he didn't need to at the moment. Bloody footprints provided an easy trail to follow.

Steeling himself, he stepped through the doorway into a steamy corridor illuminated with weak red light. These mechanized service tunnels might have been fine while not in the throes of the zombie apocalypse, but they were manifest nightmares in current conditions. Even without his hallucinations, which luckily held off, he imagined animate corpses hiding around every curve, all masticating their broken teeth at the barely coherent thought of prey.

Nothing of the sort, though. Just more bloodied footprints that slowly faded as the ichor became scarcer. He was about to lose the trail when he ran across a large patch of Corruption with boot prints embedded deeply into it, as if whoever came this way stomped it a few times before realizing the futility. _Another person who appreciates a good curb stomp._

Less than a minute later, Curtis reached another door, this one bearing the words **"TRAM CONTROL ROOM" **emblazed on a flickering holo-sign above. He knew that whatever was beyond would change his entire life – hopefully for the better.

Taking a deep breath, he placed his hand on the door. His whole body went stiff as it slid open. Beyond was a human being.

No doubt about it. He gasped, causing the visage to whirl around, hands clasping a Model 211-V Plasma Cutter. Unable to speak, Curtis raised his arms above his head; the figure needed time to process this. A wave of serenity washed over him even as he was held at gunpoint – unlike last time, he knew they wouldn't pull.

"Are you real?" The person was clearly male from the voice, and a little older, too. Difficult to tell straightaway through bulkier RIGs; this one was an Intermediate Engineering number, which gave a pretty clear hint to the man's profession.

Curtis nodded, and the engineer's arms flopped to his side, the makeshift gun nearly slipping from his hands. "What the fuck is happening?" he listlessly breathed. Before he could answer, the holo-projector on the man's chest shimmered.

"Isaac! Isaac!" a woman shouted as the blue-shifted view jostled about, passing over pipes and the ceiling. It was the same woman he'd heard ask about the comm blackout, and it quickly settled on two individuals. One was her, a woman about his age with long brown hair and a stylish jacket. Not the kind of person he'd expect to find on such a mission, but what did he know? "God, I can't believe he made it."

However, she _was _the kind of person who would normally get his attention a _different_ way. Not this time, though; the time for rubbernecking was long gone, though he really wanted to be aroused to confirm he was not, in fact, enamored by a revivified corpse. His attention turned to the other personage. He was a dark-skinned man, probably security. Wouldn't have been surprised if he was once USM. There was an authoritative mien about him, the kind Gabe and Nathan emanated. Without proper RIGs, they wouldn't stand a chance. From the screen's position, he saw them, but they couldn't see him.

"Isaac, we ran into more of them on the way over here," the man panted. "Are you OK?"

"Yes, I'm – "

The camera was jerked away again, causing turbulence to run across the screen. "More _what?! _What the Hell are those things? Is that the crew?!"

Finding the strength to interject, Isaac exclaimed, "There's someone else here," before flipping the monitor toward Curtis. They faced off for what seemed an eternity. As they did, the elation in his gut turned to dread.

The fantasy of being rescued by knights in shining armor, or at least quickly dispatched by soldiers, came face to face with reality. These people were neither heroes nor villains – they were ordinary, addled and scared.

"Who are you?" the woman asked. Curtis wanted to word his answer carefully; he needed to express the grave danger they were all in while not sucking every molecule of hope from the artificial atmosphere.

"Curtis Mason, Class 5 Engineer, RIG number 492770." He rattled off the baked-in string of facts for the first time in ages. Felt slightly more impactful, considering these people _needed _something to ground them. "And something very, very bad is happening." The brunette rolled her eyes.

"I'll give it to you straight. We found a Marker on the planet – as in the thing Unitologists worship – and brought it aboard. It's evil and somehow managed to do _this_. These zombies are called 'Necromorphs', and they'll kill on sight. And I know you were sent here to fix the Ishimura, but that's not going to happen. We have to leave _now._" There was so much he could have said: the madness that followed, the threat that this ship meant for the whole human race. Little of it mattered now. There, between life and death, the struggle to grasp the former and evade the latter burned bright in his mind.

"So the rumors were true," the man muttered. "There's been hearsay at the CEC about a Marker, but we never expected – " He cut himself off, creasing his lip and turning away. "How many are left?"

"What?"

"People. How many people are still alive?" The question was a punch in the gut. Intellectually, he knew he wasn't responsible for everybody. He was only one man against a sea of monsters. Still, it broke his heart that he was the last one… except Dr. Mercer. He reached an impasse. Though that animal barely deserved the term, he was nonetheless a living, breathing person – one a military man like Hammond would still want to save.

"I think I'm the very last one." His voice snapped from both lying to his saviors and the verbal recognition that he was no longer alone. The shockspace beacon's siren song lured more sailors to their dooms because he wasn't brave enough to die. In his haste to be saved, he'd marooned more victims on the deadly reef.

The dark-skinned man put a hand over his face and wiped up while the woman shook her head. "Unfortunately, our ship suffered some damage on the way in. Nothing fatal, but it'll need repairs." OK, not what he wanted to hear, but he'd take it in stride. "We have to get to the Bridge. The Captain's Nest." Memories of the room flooded back; the holographic map illuminated by red suns and the panic attack Nathan had. "We'll need the tram for that, but it looks like it's offline. Leaving's important, but we can't until we download the data. The company needs to know exactly what happened here."

"You're going to die if you stay," Curtis growled, softening his tone when he realized that might sound like a threat. "I mean, you don't stand a chance."

"I agree with Mason. You're going to get us all killed," the woman spat at her compatriot.

"If you listen to me, I _will _get us out of here alive. Now, what's wrong with the tram?" He put his hands behind his back and began pacing while Isaac shook his head. Quiet guy. Curtis' face singed, drops of bilious sweat rolling down it. How could they argue at such a time?

The woman entered some commands into her own RIG to do Altman-knew what. Faint outlines of schematics flashed across the screen, though it was nearly impossible to read a screen through a screen – like taking a picture of a picture of a picture. "The data board is fried, but there should be a spare somewhere. The husk of the gondola itself is also blocking the tunnel. Near here, luckily." She scowled, the look nearly as intimidating as a Necromorph's. "Damn it, everything is on the other side of this quarantine! We can't reach it from here!"

"No, we can't," said the man before turning back. "But you can, Isaac… and Curtis, if you're willing. I have no jurisdiction over you." Huh. A security figure willing to ask his opinion instead of immediately drafting him. He was flattered. And he saw the point of learning everything they could about this enemy, if only because it may have already arrived in Sol. The main computer was a repository of every important vid-log and audio log to go through the system. Probably wouldn't hold much about the Necromorphs, but maybe enough.

"I'm in," he replied, surprising even himself. Still, if their ship was damaged, anyway, he might as well make the most of this situation. Kendra had a military man for safeguard, but Isaac was just an engineer, and they needed him to repair the shuttle. If he died, so did the rest of them. How could he protect himself from such horrors? _You could say the same for a miner, _he thought, but he at least had plenty of experience. The man cleared his throat.

"Some introductions are in order, then. Curtis, my name is Zach Hammond. I'm the Chief Security Officer for this mission." His expression fluttered; stolid confidence momentarily usurped by concern. "You… wouldn't happen to know about Alissa Vincent, would you? She's a close friend of mine, and the Ishimura's head of security."

Curtis' heart sank. Yet another person he couldn't help. "I'm sorry. I know her. She's dead." Hammond couldn't hide the sadness on his face, gaze growing into a thousand-yard stare. "She gave her life to save the ship – she's the one who launched the distress beacon. She died a hero." It felt strange to shower praise on someone he'd only encountered once (and who tasered him), but the last thing he wanted to do was speak ill of the dead. Not when they could hear him.

Hammond quickly recomposed himself, or at least pretended to. "The illustrious woman beside me is Kendra Daniels, computer specialist and new CEC hire. This is the first mission we've worked on together. I hope that subsequent ones will be less confrontational." Kendra didn't acknowledge him, instead hammering away at the holo-keyboard looking for any ship systems still online.

He had no problem with such behavior. These people were hurled headfirst into Hell after a lifetime of ignorance about the universe's horrors. Rudeness was completely justified, and at least she was still trying to help!

"As established, the man on the other side of this holo-screen is Isaac Clarke. Admittedly, I don't know him too well, either, but his engineering credentials are impeccable. He was a last-minute addition to the crew. Volunteered for… personal reasons." Oh? Well, it wasn't his place to ask. The taciturn expression on his face betrayed nothing. Might as well still have been wearing the helmet with how stolid he looked.

"We had two more. Johnston and Chen. They didn't make it past the first room." The lot grew even more haggard. Losing people not ten minutes in. "Now, to business." Curtis quickly got Hammond's RIG number so they could speak more conveniently, and that was it. He and Isaac were alone together… though he knew they wouldn't be for long.

Isaac turned to him as the echo died. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mason," he dryly said. Again, a little hostility was justified, and he quickly quashed the instinctual anger in his gut. He couldn't do anything stupid. Not with the most important person here.

"Likewise." He deactivated his iron mask, which quickly receded into the RIG proper. A face-to-face connection might nip any hostility in the bud. Isaac took the hint and followed suit, his three-slotted helmet evaporating.

Curtis knew the man was older than he, but this was a bit more aged than he expected. Looked around 45 or maybe even 50, his brown hair flecked with gray and his small beard unkempt. Aging meant little in modern times. Universal healthcare and gene therapy extended the average human lifespan to well past 100, and despite the perhaps 20 years between them, they were likely on equal footing physically.

Their reluctant companionship was cemented with a firm handshake, and Curtis dreaded what would happen once Nicole arrived.

…

Curtis was nearby. Nicole knew it, though she couldn't articulate how. She simply felt him the way she felt her brothers and sisters. It wasn't something that she could explain, even to herself.

The corners of her mouth curved up as she wormed through the ventilation system, slithering down the final passage with her own slime acting as a natural lubricant. _Hopefully he had more success than I did._

Murmurs rebounded through the vent cover, and dim shadows whisked through the grate's small holes. The shadows of people – _plural. _Practically bouncing like a child, she pressed her earhole to the cover.

"…have a friend who should be on the way," Curtis said, though the muffling made it tinny.

"A friend?" another male voice said. It vaguely stirred something akin to indigestion deep in her gut. "I thought you said you were the only human left."

Curtis' silence told more than any words could have. For all his predications, articulation was not one of them. Neither was it for her, but being telepathically linked made that less important. She knocked on the slotted sheet, biting down on her blighted tongue. Better to rip the bandage off now and inoculate this guy to the shock instead of forcing it on him later. The talking stopped, so she rapped louder.

"Curtis, it's me. Sorry about the awkward entrance; a lot of this area has been sealed off."

"Oh, don't worry about it." His voice became louder and less garbled as he approached, and a gloved, five-fingered hand slipped between the grooves. Her four eyes turned to her own three-"fingered" appendages. They were superbly designed for the rending and tearing of flesh, yet there was enough power behind them to dent steel. She was proud of them, and they were about as far from human as one could get.

Why, then, did she feel so fondly about humanity, a race that would despised her even more than it hated itself? Despite their flaws and hostility, she found much to respect in them. _Well, I did used to be one._

"Isaac, you're going to be, um, _surprised _by this. But don't panic." Understatement of the century. Something else stood out to her more than the shock he would soon suffer.

"Not any more than I already am…"

_Isaac. That… that was my boyfriend's name. _It erupted from the scorched earth of her subconscious like a geyser, its water again rendering the ground fallow. It was a coincidence, of course. Isaac wasn't a particularly common name, but millions of men must have owned it.

She gritted her teeth as Curtis popped the cover off and threw it to the ground. Both looked within, but she was in enough shadow to remain obscured… save her four yellow eyes, which reflected the outside light. Their helmets were off. While she couldn't discern Isaac's specific facial features in the oily shadow, she saw enough to recognize terror.

Curtis grabbed the trembling, twitching arm that held the gun while she emerged. Her attempts to make this nonthreatening were for naught. A spindly, emaciated fiend clawing its way from pitch was enough to make any human piss themselves, which was exactly what he did – a faint hint of ammonia reached her adenoids through his powered exoskeleton.

In the light, dim though it was, she saw his face. _His _face.

Isaac. Her boyfriend. Love of her life and beyond. Despite his gruffness, his heart was kind and open. Anyone who really got to know him would agree. There were some things he hated: Unitology and laziness and cheap food. And her, judging by the deathly pallor that washed over his face.

The irony of love turned to loathing wasn't lost on her. Yet devotion was still there. Why else would he have been on this team? His current CEC deployment was constructing a new spaceport in Moscow, capital of the North Asian Sector. He volunteered for this mission to find her. _Meant what he said about crossing the galaxy to find me if I was in trouble._

Well, here she was. "H-hello," she choked out, hoping her voice, torn though it was, might spark some semblance of recognition. It didn't.

Isaac's eyes rolled up into his head, his knees buckled, and he fell backwards. She caught him before he hit the ground, but that made it even worse. The last expression on his face before he lapsed into unconsciousness was one of sheer terror. There was no look of recognition in his eyes – merely fear and hatred.

Holding her warm lover in her cold embrace, all she wanted to do was faint and join him in temporary oblivion.


	16. Salvaging the Kellion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, excellent readers. You may not be able to leave your houses in body as society collapses, but you can still depart in spirit from this world to ones even more horrifying.
> 
> I wanted to explain a line in this chapter, because not everyone will understand. EA (publisher of Dead Space) exists in-universe, which is proven by the description for the N7 suit in DS 3 and one of the characters in Aftermath playing Dante's Inferno. I expanded that into saying the company is still around in 2508, having bought out every other video game corporation. And they still suck! I thought it'd be a fun joke, but I'm not going meta with it.
> 
> Also, what do you think of my portrayal of Isaac? In the first game, he has pretty much no personality, but I imagine him as being kind of a dick, which is how he acts in this chapter. Tell me if that's OK or if you think he's too much of a bastard. I'm not trying for character assassination. I just find it a more interesting dynamic than if he and Curtis were fast friends, though I tried to give him some soft spots.
> 
> Big thanks to RABIDPANZER, CRIMSON AN'XILEEL, ANCIENTOFDAYZ, DERPYSAUCE, THAT1RISHB1OKE and BLAUORANGE for reviewing. One more thing. I've decided to share my Discord and Xbox information. You're all wonderful people, so I'm completely fine if you want to connect (not that I expect it)! The former is AnInvisibleMan #8177 while the latter is InvisibleMan745 (I'm unseen in a lot of places).

**10 Hours, 15 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

"Isaac, wake up."

Curtis leaned over the unconscious engineer, his countenance roiling as he doubtlessly languished in nightmares. Dreams of molten insectoid eyes and teeth like broken knives, he suspected.

His gaze drifted to Nicole, who stared at Isaac with all the worry her mutilated face could convey. He didn't understand why she felt so upset. Sure, she scared him shitless, but they expected that, and it seemed no harm was done. Maybe the prospect of her breaking the only other human she'd ever met rubbed her the wrong way.

An ululating groan followed, and Curtis' head snapped back. Isaac stirred. His eyes whirled before settling on the two faces above him, as discordant as living and dead could be. Seeing the zombie meant no harm pacified him but did not mitigate his apprehension.

"What is that?" he whispered, voice warbling like violin strings.

"My friend. Uh, she's a Necromorph who decided to help me. Her name is – "

"Drone," she spat. "Call me Drone." Nicole's unease about her name being revealed piqued his curiosity. Well, it was a personal thing, the only shred of her mortal life that remained except tattered memories. Maybe she didn't want to reveal it until she knew him better.

She extended a hand, as much an olive branch of peace as an attempt to help him up. Isaac didn't reciprocate, scrambling back across the metal while panting.

"I know you're scared, but she's a good person." He strained the last word to highlight, despite appearances to the contrary, she was as kind and caring as many humans. More than most, actually. "She's saved my ass more than once. Please give her a chance; she's not like her family." He shut himself up after that, not wanting to start gushing about her and fan the embers of infatuation into a greater fire.

Acrimony melted into apathy as the helmet rose to cover his face. "Family?" Isaac scoffed, turning to Nicole. "They're your family, huh? Well, your 'family' killed dozens of my colleagues. I've been with the CEC for years, worked on this ship, and most of my _friends _were aboard, so you'll forgive me if I'm not in the mood to trust a shambling corpse that just clawed out of a meat grinder." He paused. "And why does it look different than the others I saw?"

"There's different species. The ones you saw earlier, I call 'Slashers'. Big blade arms that can cut nearly anything." Isaac guffawed, apparently unimpressed with the names he chose. "Drone's a 'Stalker'. Come to think of it, she's the only one of them I've seen…" _Never considered that. I wonder if only really smart people become them. _Despite being the most experienced human in the universe with Necromorphs, he knew so little about them. For example, what determined the phenotype a person became? Genetics? Situation? Mental state? Or was it random? _That's something Nicole should try to figure out._

"Doesn't matter. They're all rancid meat."

Curtis clenched his teeth. A bit of rudeness was understandable. In fact, he'd be more concerned if Isaac trusted them implicitly. But to hear such vitriol pour from a man's lips about his friend (and maybe more) tore him up. He'd made the same mistake of assuming they were all alike at first, though, so he did his best to calm down. _He'll come around after spending time with her._

He expected Nicole to vociferously defend herself and perhaps mockingly offer the man a chance to join "Convergence". Instead she wilted, sadly turning away and walking towards the far door. They didn't have much to say after that, and Curtis interposed himself between the two. Less likely Isaac would shoot the "monster" with another human in the way.

"You're an engineer," Curtis remarked to get onto a subject he might find more soothing as they plodded along the dim corridor. "Can you fix mining tools?"

"Yeah. Why do you…" Isaac trailed off when he noticed the broken Line Gun on his back. "Give me five minutes and it'll be good as new," he remarked, already emptying small tools from his pockets.

"Not now," Curtis replied. Tempting as the offer was, they didn't _have _five minutes; every wasted second reduced the likelihood of their survival. It was a race against time. Isaac put his tools away and hesitated before holding out the Plasma Cutter.

"I picked this up a few minutes ago and barely have any idea how to use it. You're a miner; that's as familiar in your hands as a screwdriver or wire cutters are in mine." True, but it took him aback that Isaac would give such a boon to him. As long as it wasn't to a demon, he supposed.

"I can teach you how to use it later," he said, thinking back to when he tutored Nicole with her own jury-rigged Plasma Cutter. Perhaps she recalled the experience, as well, for she cringed as he loaded the stopgap gun.

From there, they stepped into another red-lit hall. Nicole screened for psychic threats from the front, Curtis swept his weapon along the fleshy walls and Isaac navigated from the back with his holo-map; the Marker apparently didn't care about cutting off the Transnet and communications now that everyone was in the belly of the beast. Honestly, the party composition and arrangement made him think of a video game where every character had their own roles. Didn't play too many of those anymore. Not enough time, and EA sucked. Things just went downhill after _NZA 2K505 _and _Mass Effect: Triangulum – Part IV_.

Ah, the joys of living in a corporate-run galaxy, as the CEC proved by blundering out here.

They encountered nothing for the first couple minutes, which almost disappointed Curtis. He wanted to both test out this new weapon against his foes and have Isaac watch Nicole fight some. That'd prove she was on their side. _Haven't seen her dispatch any yet, come to think of it. _Well, he was the one with the gun.

"We're getting close," Isaac whispered as they approached a small door. Steam abundantly vented from the walls, indicating the tram tunnels were near. Nicole proudly placed her hand upon the hologram, not-so-subtly glancing back at the man. Her behavior perplexed him, for she'd become demurer than the confident predator she usually was. Maybe she really wanted to prove her own humanity? That didn't make any sense, considering her pride at being a Necromorph. Something strange was afoot.

The door didn't open the first time she tried it. Didn't recognize her as human. Perhaps her altered genetics placed her right at the threshold of what could be recognized as hominid, because it worked before. It frustrated her; she let out a grunt before slamming her palm into the hologram. The door popped open with a ding.

The ghost of a smile crept onto her face… right before the body came down.

It must have been attached to the ceiling or something, for the corpse splattered on steel. They all leapt back, and the cadaver slowly rolled down the ramp before coming to rest at the bottom. This was like a haunted house or the fucking Clogger. He would have laughed at his fear were it not a real body in front of him.

"Fuck," Isaac said, and Curtis didn't have the heart to tell him he'd see much, much worse before this was over. Well, Isaac couldn't _see _anything at the moment; he must have had his eyes closed from the way he slowly wobbled down the incline. Though this would have been a good time to antagonize him, Curtis kept his mouth shut. Somebody had to be the bigger person, after all. Many responsibilities fell to him over the past hours – soldier, researcher, councilor. Now diplomat could be added to the list.

The body looked too mangled to be "repurposed" into a useful Necromorph, so Curtis ignored it as they rounded the corner and entered the vast channel through a service hatch. Nicole, then Curtis, then Isaac. It was up a small ladder, so he consciously looked straight ahead, not wanting a glimpse of Nicole's pretty much non-existent ass while he climbed.

_I am such a fucking degenerate. _He hated using that word, but how else could he describe attraction to a corpse?! Hopefully the thousands of hours of therapy and counseling he'd receive upon returning would burn such abasement from his brain. His flesh crawled as he thought of it.

Sexual liberation crept slowly but surely forward across centuries. Gay, lesbian, polyamorous – nobody in their right mind would object if it was consensual. The only things illegal under EarthGov law (as far as he knew, for he wasn't a legal expert) were pedophilia and bestiality. Nicole was an adult, and though she looked more like some bizarre decaying animal than anything human, she still technically was, at least mostly. There were probably some freaks who'd gotten enough genetic modification to be more different on a purely DNA level.

Still, it was goddamn necrophilia! That was the domain of serial killers! He'd throw himself off a building before crossing that line. Even the Church of Unitology disavowed it (that was always a big topic on their apologetics Transnet, considering their reverence for death… something Mercer seemed to ignore). Though he had to wonder what happened on those rumored "mausoleum ships" of theirs…

They mercifully broke through into the tunnel, and he took a big whiff of the filtered air to snap him out of his funk. Same as ever: a massive canyon, seemingly carved through bedrock by some massive mythical worm. It made him shudder that such an entity might actually exist now, burrowing through the ravine and assimilating anything that still lived. If something like the Spider existed in space, perhaps equally large, freakish specimens prowled the interior. He'd only seen a fraction of the ship, after all. _Then again, the Spider was in zero-gravity, so that might have let it grow more._

"I don't feel anyone nearby," Nicole whispered as if that could shift with the winds.

Curtis still didn't activate his helmet-mounted flashlight, afraid it would draw faraway monsters to them. Many RIGs lacked night vision capabilities, including this one. Stupid as it sounded, it mostly made sense – everything from starships to space stations to cities remained constantly illuminated. It was as if mankind tried to outshine the stars. People didn't need such technology until they _did._

This retrospection drew his gaze to Nicole, whose four eyes met his. As always, they were like a tiger's, reflecting what little light remained back in xanthous chrome. She was, as she liked to point out, a highly evolved hunter. She certainly looked the part. Fortunately, his pitiful human optics adapted rather well over the past hours, so he could see rather far in the eternal twilight – more than Isaac, at least.

He pointed up the tunnel. A large metal prism rested about a hundred feet away, clearly the crippled trolley's husk. Looked to be in one piece, though he couldn't identify anything else. "Kendra said something about needing a data board?"

"Pretty much the brain of the system. The CPU." Ah, that made sense. "Let me get aboard. Hopefully I can fuse the old one into place. If not, we'll have to find another." Sounded good to him. They paced up the gorge in the same positions; still nothing to shoot.

The tram's details only became visible once he was very close. He almost felt bad for the inanimate hunk of metal and wire. It'd saved him so many times, been his loyal sanctuary and steed. Now it sadly listed to the side, covered in dents and scars. Two particularly grievous wounds marred the sides, clearly products of the Graverobber's massive scythes.

"What did that?" Isaac asked as he pointed to those furrows.

"You don't want to know."

They didn't speak for a while after climbing aboard through the half-closed door, its shutter bent and broken. This was even sadder, with the holo-signs advertising such corporate wonders as SUN cola, Lightspeed bars and Peng burned out and forgotten. _I remember saying I'd never use Peng again if I got out of here… _Well, he'd see if his "interest" in Nicole worsened. Sex with a virtual woman was leagues better than with a dead one.

Isaac walked to the front, which housed a panel between some fans on the wall. He took a small laser cutter from his pocket and drilled the thing off. The lid clattered down, and pitch smoke poured from the hole. That couldn't have been good! Growling, he yanked out the main piece, and even a layman like Curtis saw the scorched, smoldering board wasn't fit for salvage any more than roadkill was for a five-star restaurant.

"We'll need a new board. More than that, too." He looked around, noting all the gashes. "Even if we find one, there's no guarantee this frame can move again." Every second spent aboard brought insanity and outright death closer to touching them. No time could be wasted.

"I'll find the data board. You and Drone stay here and try to get this thing running. Hopefully I'll get back here as you're finishing." Nicole's eyes went wide while Isaac actually flinched at the suggestion.

"I'll be alone with this monster when Hell freezes over."

"You're already in Hell. You'll be dead before it gets much colder." His retort gave the both of them pause; that might have been the cleverest Curtis had ever been with words.

"Isaac," Nicole rasped, earning a look of disdain from behind the mask. "Err, Mr. Clarke," she stammered, "I promise to protect you no matter what. I don't expect my oaths to mean much, but they're all I can offer." They stared at each other before he resignedly sighed, which lifted a weight from Curtis' back.

"Fine. On two conditions." Both of them immediately consented, but it was really up to Nicole because she was the one who'd put up with the guy. "First, if your friend does anything – anything at all – to break that promise, I'll try to kill her. Probably won't work, but I'll try." She cringed at this but nevertheless nodded. "Second, I want your Line Gun. I'll patch it up if there's time." This, on the other hand, was a completely reasonable request, so Curtis handed the thing right over. Felt like he parted with an old friend.

"Any idea where I should start?"

"I looked through Kendra's schematics. There are emergency supply rooms studding the entire tram system. Should be spare data boards inside. It'll look like this except not, well, broken." He held out the circuit board for him to see. Yeah, simple enough. "I have all the other materials I need here – scrap metal and solder are the heavy-duty version of duct tape. They can hold nearly anything together."

Curtis nodded and shimmied out through the hatch, dropping to the ground below and hoping he'd made the right choice. Nicole held his full confidence, but he wasn't sure whether Isaac would try something. The guy seemed like a dick… though he didn't know whether his hostility was genuine or merely bluster and hot air.

Regardless, he set off in search of salvation.

**10 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Nicole fidgeted as she watched Isaac work with two eyes and the door with the other two. Her tapetum lucidum allowed her to see light and dark equally. Her boyfriend didn't dare turn his back, perpetually keeping one eye on the work and another on her. All their attention was divided. She was a skilled hunter, she reminded herself, an apex predator who tirelessly dogged her prey. That was the essence of her being. A raptor. _Stalker._

Now she felt like a baby chicken, helpless before this man. She tried to justify his behavior. _He'd understand if he knew who I really was. He still loves me. _She was tempted to reveal her identity right then and there, but that would've been irresponsible. Whether he took it well or poorly, it'd distract from his vital work. Still, she couldn't bear to pass the minutes in silence and uselessness. She didn't have the skills to help, and even if she did, there was no way Isaac would let her touch his stuff.

"Mr. Clarke, may I ask you something?" she whispered, already quivering like a leaf.

"No." The word was filled with a worse sentiment than enmity: lassitude. He regarded her no more than a human would a rabid dog – dangerous and cunning, but unquestionably beneath them. It broke her heart, the metaphorical joining with the physical in that moment.

She pushed through the pain. "Why did you come here? As I understand, you specifically requested to be transferred for this mission."

There was a long pause, the silence broken by small plasma arcs humming as they bound one piece of metal to another. Just when she resigned herself to quiet, he answered. "I'm looking for someone. My girlfriend." Her spirits leapt, but she kept her excitement bottled. Still, she vibrated with energy, which only heightened his disdain. "Freak," he muttered under his breath.

"Who was she? What was she like?" Her pestering began to break down his inhibitions. He cracked without much more encouragement.

"Her name _is _Nicole." Of course. She'd have to let him think that. "The most amazing person I know." A sheen of wistfulness coated his voice, and he lapsed into memories she once possessed while his hands darted about with minds of their own.

"We met three years ago. It was my last tour working for the Merchant Marines, and she just so happened to be the ship's doctor. We patrolled shipping lanes near Borealis – some tiny colony between Shalanx III and Uxor – and I was smitten the moment I saw her." The words were lightning in her mind, reanimating sensations and memories with every bolt. Zeus couldn't have aimed them so well.

"Wasn't mutual. I had to do some stupid shit to prove I loved her. I think it was the two of us singing karaoke in the ship's abandoned mess hall that really sealed the deal. I'm pretty sure she met the guy who'd later become her assistant on the same trip."

_Perry… _A worse recollection flooded back, one she didn't want to.

"We got out of there and became friends. Travelled together, worked together. Vacationed together to a planet called Kreemar in the Gliese 581 system. That's where things got serious. Lived together in the Alberta Hubs for a couple years, where I joined the CEC. Nice, quiet life. Until Nicole got invited to be SMO on the Ishimura, anyway. Like I said, I worked here myself about a year back. We were going to get married after she returned. We will."

Throughout his monologue, Isaac grew more and more emotional. He wasn't the kind of man who opened up to those he didn't know, but talking about her proved to be an exception. She was both flattered and horrified. She didn't want to do this to him! Without even thinking, she slunk over and put her arms around him like she always did when he felt – the punch in the face was a natural response. Coming so soon after Curtis did the same gave her a profound sense of vertigo.

"I've said too much," he sneered. "I don't need or want whatever pity you're giving me. Just leave me alone." It was as he wished. She said nothing, again happy she was no longer able to cry.

…

"OK, a storage room. There has to be one around here."

Curtis pressed down the abandoned, smoky tunnel, hoping it stayed that way. He hazarded to be cavalier earlier when he had companions and hope. The numbers were on their side. Now that he was alone…

_You're not alone, _Nicole whispered to him. She walked beside him as a blanched blur, the exact opposite of the Shadow Man. He – or it – was dark and brooding. She – _it _– was pale and charming. Besides her pallor, she appeared exactly as she had in life with lively eyes and gentle smile. _We'll always be together Curtis. You found me in death, after all. Rescued me from the Red Marker._

At this, she morphed into the Necromorph form he knew her as now. The only difference here was that her eyes were milky white rather than the saffron hue he knew. _It wasn't enough. You could have saved me. You didn't. Why did you live while I died?_

"You can't trick me," he said, doubt already seeping into his mind. If he stayed with Nicole instead of striking out with Nathan, Gabe and all the rest, she might still live. Perhaps she could have joined them; her skill and knowledge might have let them all escape on that shuttle. _There's no way to know that. I can't dwell on the past. _The past had a way of dwelling on _him _if the hallucinations were any hint, though.

_I forgive you. I know you tried, even if it wasn't hard enough. You love me. _She licked him through the helmet, sandpaper tongue scraping across his face. Disturbingly, it didn't feel too bad. He'd had worse kisses.

"You're with someone," he whispered. "And you're also dead." Her only objections to these were a wink and a smile.

He lowered his head, an exercise in futility. Necromorphs died with plasma, bullets or his own hands and feet if necessary! These hallucinations lived inside his head; the only thing that could permanently defeat them was removing his brain from his skull… and that'd kill more than just illusions. His feet turned to lead as he sank deeper into despair. He would die alone. _Not alone, _she reminded him.

"God, I wish the Shadow Man was still here." Just as the mental torment was about to make him collapse, he spotted an entry embedded in the tunnel's side. **"Maintenance," **the small sign read. Not even a holo-sign but print on corrugated metal illuminated by a flickering bulb. It was times like this when the Ishimura really showed its age of 62 years.

Curtis shook his head, and Nicole sadly faded away. He huffed and hobbled over to the door. Again, ancient; it didn't have a genetic scanner, just a handle! Fascinated, he took precious seconds to open and close the door. He'd pretty much only seen these in museums. Scanners, whether coded for a specific individual or people in general, were the standard in egress design since before he was born. _I think Mercer's office also had one._

He brought himself under control and flung the door open, not accounting for the strength boost his RIG provided. Metal met metal under centrifugal pressure, making the hatch vibrate like a tuning fork as the clang rattled into eternity. _Shit!_

He ducked inside and closed the door behind him for all the good that would do. Not much, he realized as he saw the landscape before him: dusty and with poorly labelled crates that sat for who-knew how long. There were even a few ancient cobwebs from spiders that'd found their way aboard decades ago! All long-dead now, thank God. _Necromorph spiders… _The thought nearly made him faint.

All in all, it looked like the room had never been touched. Almost.

A sessile mass of bloated flesh clung to a Corruption patch against the far wall. It looked like a massive cocoon for an undead butterfly, an image only broken by the face. It yowled before pathetically thrashing around, a sight that made Curtis giggle. That stopped when he saw the footprints of whoever this used to be imprinted in the dust along with drops of ichor. Whoever this used to be died alone and in pain before becoming one with the ship.

This must have been one of those "Guardians" Nicole talked about – an important Necromorph caste, apparently. He liked the moniker. Sure enough, he spotted a coiled tentacle of muscle and bone in what used to be the rib cage. Dangerous up-close, certainly, but it could do nothing but howl and scream at this distance. _Should still take it out both to put it out of its misery and so it doesn't psychically alert its friends._

He had half a mind to just throw stuff at it with kinesis to conserve ammunition, but that plan went out the window when it let out another yowl, this time expelling something from a hole in its abdomen. Curtis moved out of the way, thinking it an organic explosive akin to Exploders and Crawlers, but it merely hit the ground halfway between them with a wet _thwap_.

_Maybe it's the Necromorph version of taking a dump. _Before he could continue that wonderful train of thought, the blob sprouted a stalk. It was like a beefy potato plant, with the spud-shaped base on the ground and a little limb in the air. He would have been rather amused were it not for the grotesque eyeball on the reed's head. It swiveled over to him and blinked, making Curtis throw up in his mouth a little. It whipped back a second later and fired a bone quill like a Lurker.

He flowed around it like water; despite his enervation, his body learned how to dodge without even thinking. The arrow harmlessly dinked off the wall behind him while the Guardian screamed and launched another pod. Now Curtis was frustrated.

_Enough of this. _He turned the Plasma Cutter on its side like a gangster holding a gun (could have flipped the barrel with the press of a button, but this was more satisfying) and fired twice. The blasts sheared through the vines like a weedwhacker through grass, and they flopped around before going still. Powerful against these pathetic globs, but his weapon felt like a pea shooter against the wall-bound monstrosity.

He turned to the Guardian and unloaded the clip, slicing off the appendages that bound it to the bulkhead. It screamed even louder through tearing lungs, but he kept going. Shot after shot after shot. One of the perks of being a miner was that he knew how to aim at stationary objects like rocks. Or stagnant monsters, apparently. His aim never faltered down to the final burst.

The Guardian roared as its six or so steaming tentacles writhed about. Made him want some calamari, but only the richest of the rich could afford such luxurious food. _I'll buy some when I get out. _Without its anchors, the creature peeled away from the wall like tape slowly losing its adhesion. An ultimate gurgle, and it fell forward, spasmed and died, released from its limbo. That left a shapeless mound of dead flesh.

Sighing, Curtis shook his head and holstered the tool. Time to find what he came for.

This proved more difficult than he expected. A circuit board was a circuit board – just plug it into whatever machine needed, right? Oh, how wrong he was. All the components in their myriad containers made his head spin. Telling one from another was like discerning eggshell from cream. Only then did he realize how little he understood about his own field. He liked to jabber about mining's intricacies, yet the science of how his own equipment functioned escaped him. He knew how to operate a Plasma Cutter, but how a cartridge of gas got turned into a superheated soup of ions and electrons was far beyond him.

_That's why I need Isaac. He seems smart. I know Nicole's smart. With their heads together, we can think our way out of nearly anything. _Well, he may have been rather dull by his own assessment, but he still had a purpose – keeping these two alive. "Hopefully they still are," he muttered.

At last, he popped open a crate that seemed to have the kind he needed. Just to be safe, he took several duplicates, putting each in a different pocket. This was delicate technology prone to breaking. Might as well be redundant. He also found some power cells that might be compatible with their weapons (Plasma Cutters and Line Guns were both plasma-based tools, so they accepted most of the same cartridges), though he didn't know how well they'd function after the creeping decades.

With a final look around, he adjusted the hem of his RIG and struck out again, Nicole whispering in his ear all the way.

…

Voices pounded in Nicole's head as her siblings bore down. They'd been coming for a while now, but she said nothing. Isaac couldn't sense them and would think her a liar if she told him. All she could hope was that Curtis returned soon. Her boyfriend already managed to patch up Curtis' Line Gun and seal the larger holes. It wouldn't be long before physical screams joined the mental. Their own, if they weren't careful. The only upside to the dozens approaching was that their words drowned each other out. Not enough, though.

_We shall string up the infidel by her entrails and parade her through this sacred vessel in celebration before adding her biomass to our own! Convergence is nigh!_

The tone and sheer hatred of this voice, flanged and comprised of many tones, was eminently familiar. The Graverobber cometh. No ranks existed among her kin. Castes and particularly respected members (like Mercer's creations), but no official leaders. Her brothers and sisters answered only to the Red God itself. The Graverobber was one of those reputable "individuals", attracting Necromorphs to itself like groupies might hang around a celebrity. Maybe they were more human than she thought. They were each a nation, yet nations still had politics.

_Please, Curtis. Get here soon. _She again debated whether or not to inform Isaac about the terror they faced. They couldn't hope to fight so many; doing so would be struggling against the tide. Maybe it would be better to let death come quickly for him… Her claws splayed. He let his guard down enough that his back was to her, its turquoise rod pulsing with light and life. A single swift maneuver could turn it black.

God, she didn't want to. At least she _wanted _not to want to. Not so soon after her crisis with the Hippocratic Oath. However, the situation hardly leant itself to an inflexible maxim, she'd come to realize. At first, she thought the only important thing was survival. Not now. They needed to be realistic. The simple fact was that Isaac wasn't like Curtis. The latter acted bull-headed and stubborn and knew what he wanted while the former… was actually very similar. _Where was I going with this? _Oh, right. Differences. The thing was that Isaac knew when he fought a battle that he could not possibly win. Though she acknowledged they possessed a chance of escape, the odds still seemed slim.

Curtis slogged through pain and despair, fighting tooth and nail for his life, despite really having nothing to live for. It worked so far. Call it brave or foolish or downright insane, but it was him – and he didn't want to become a Necromorph. That was self-evident, considering he still lived. She respected that choice.

Isaac, on the other hand… He wouldn't want it at first. No sane person would. But almost everyone caved eventually; their bodies failed, supplanted with stronger, faster, superior flesh, not to mention a genuine family so lacking in society. A place to belong. They almost invariably enjoyed the gifts they'd been given. Some of that was the Red God's machinations, yet most was genuine. However, she was torn. While she relished the physical boons her new form provided, it separated her from Isaac. If only there was a way to satiate his aesthetic desires while maintaining her newfound vigor!

That was impossible for now, of course. If he became like her, though…

Well, he was the primary reason she wanted to leave the Ishimura. With him at her side, she would be content. If Convergence came, they would be together forever. If it didn't, they'd still have time. There might have been some way to get down to Aegis VII, at least. From there, they could hold each other as they watched the ship crash from a safe distance or go nuclear hundreds of miles above.

Then again, if Isaac did go with her, he'd be hated, despised and persecuted by association. Was that really what she wanted for him? He'd never really had a family, she remembered (though she couldn't recall the specifics); this was his chance to belong somewhere. For all its malice, the Red God could provide that better than she ever hoped to.

A distant roar split the air, mercifully making the choice for her. She sheathed her claws right before his gaze crossed her.

"What was that?"

"They're coming," she whispered back.

A pounding began on the door, making Isaac yelp. "Wait, don't shoot! It's me!" Curtis popped up a second later, panting. Nicole felt and smelled the feeble adrenaline coursing through his veins. No doubt about it now. There was a bond forming, at least on her end. Tenuous feelers reached out, probing his emotions. Dread and anguish tainted with his characteristic hope. It may have been misplaced, but it was completely genuine.

Now that she explored deeper, there was also something directed at her that she couldn't quite place. It made sense that he'd feel strongly about her, given all they'd been through, but these emotions weren't what she expected. A tenderness was present, something she would have given a more thorough examination if they had the time.

"Thought you were dead, Mason."

"Yeah, so did I," he muttered, fishing the data board from his pocket. It was broken. "Gimme a second." After a couple more tries, he located one with all the circuits and wires attached, shoving it into his hands. Another howl, and Curtis' neural patterns spiked.

His thoughts were comparable to those of her siblings, surprisingly. There were differences, of course. The Red God influenced Necromorph psychology as much as their physiology; its energy melded with their very beings, consequently coloring their minds. Coloring them crimson. They didn't even _have _brains anymore – that tissue went towards muscle mass and other useful adaptations. Thought took place throughout their whole bodies.

Still, some things remained the same. Spikes of various chemicals, different areas activating as situations shifted. Not analogous, but not the most alien thing in the world, either.

"Can you get this thing moving before they arrive?" Curtis asked, his vision roving over all the other systems that had been patched up.

"It'll be close." His hands already flew across the chip, soldering it back into place. A single wrong move would doom them all, but Isaac hands were as steady as her own. That was one thing doctors and engineers had in common. She and Curtis looked at each other. They didn't need a psychic bond to know what the other was thinking now.

"We'll hold them off," they said simultaneously, making each other flinch. Well, she didn't think they were _that _synced!

"Your Line Gun's as fixed as it can be. May not look pretty, but it'll work. Probably." That was all the encouragement he needed.

Roars and howls echoed closer as Curtis slid out the door and straddled the tram's exterior. The graviton emitters in his boots glowed, allowing him to navigate more easily up the largely smooth metal while still snagging whatever handholds he could. A couple moments later and he was on the roof. She followed, though she didn't need his fancy technology to keep up! Simply digging her claws into the steel, she acrobatically swung up in half the time.

"Hey! Watch it!" Isaac shouted from within. "I just fixed that wall!"

"Sorry," she sheepishly replied. However, they had bigger things to worry about than a couple dents in the hull, such as the avalanche of flesh sweeping toward them.

They were legion. The dull, sickly light blotted out their numbers, but it was more than she ever anticipated. Dozens of her kin swarmed down the tunnel, some comprised of multiple humans. Her mind flexed mathematical muscles familiar to her as a human but unfamiliar to the creature she now was. She calculated that hundreds of people were bound within this advancing phalanx. That was a significant portion of the ship's biomass – probably four or five percent, but maybe closer to ten!

It made sense. They'd been hunting her and Curtis all that time. Until Convergence came (which it might now that this crew was here), there was nothing left to do. And like hounds giving chase to rabbits, these predators finally cornered them.

Curtis stood petrified by the sight. Bad as it was to her, nothing compared to the terror he felt. Because of that, she felt it, too. "Isaac, hurry up!" he wailed, as pathetic as she'd ever heard him.

"I'm trying, damn it!"

The crest flooded forward, about to break. It was 50 feet away now: close enough for escaped Lurkers from the BPC to fire an opening volley of quills while their siblings continued the charge. Out from the carnage emerged a misshapen figure unlike any other – the Graverobber. _I will feast on your bones! _her sister screamed.

Curtis screamed. Her siblings roared. The sound she made was more of an effervescent plashing as her diaphragm spasmed. Would have been embarrassed if anyone heard it over the din, but that was improbable. Her friend raised the Line Gun and fired, the blazing bolt arcing through the air and nailing an Infector in the proboscis. Its scorched tongue flailed while wings ignited.

"Fuck you!" A makeshift mine was then launched from the barrel, magnetically clinging to the floor before going up in superheated plasmatic fire. Strobing light illuminated the Graverobber's massive maw for half a moment. It smiled at her. That snapped her mind back awake, and she awkwardly raised her own weapon. The clunky tool was unfamiliar and uncomfortable; her own claws were longer than it! Would have been more comfortable discarding the amalgamation of metal and wire, instead running into glorious combat!

She resisted that urge and instead raised the weapon. The memory of Curtis teaching her how to effectively use this tool drifted to the forefront of her mind. Her hands in his, the warm feeling of him talking in her ear. _Warm… _It was nice. She cocked the thing up a little to compensate for the arc and fired.

Energy crackled from the barrel, whirling and tumbling before nailing a Leaper in the tail. She sighed in relief. Perfect; it could do them no harm without the ability to jump up to meet them. Didn't make her feel much better as her sister thrashed , another shot from Curtis nailed an Exploder in the arm. Organic liquid volatiles gushed from the pustule a moment before her brother went up in flame. He laughed, the neurochemicals flooding his brain making him thirst for blood.

If only she was deaf to their thoughts as he. Maybe that'd allow her to laugh with him.

And then death was upon them.

Their fortress was stormed; this was the last stand. Leapers bounded onto the deck, some skittering across the smooth metal but most anchoring into the metal. Lurkers clung to the tunnel walls as they fired their bony shards. Even a couple of Slashers managed to board over the sides by putting their blades through the steel.

They were surrounded, her brothers and sisters slowly bearing down from the far end a dozen feet away. Finally, the Graverobber. She was so large that she simply sauntered up and placed her massive forepaws on the roof. The construct jolted, tilting towards her massive maw, which was nearly as wide as the tram itself! Rows upon rows of needlelike teeth greeted her like spikes, and she shivered.

One of her sisters couldn't adjust her footing in time and plummeted in, ground to pulp like fruit in a blender. A necessary sacrifice, the rest agreed.

"Your kind just invites me to do this!" Curtis shouted before launching another grenade, this one at the giant mouth. A mouth that smirked as one of its scythes batted it back at him. The explosive was magnetic, which actually made the fact it nailed him in the synthetic polymer chest piece was their saving grace; anywhere else and the mine would have bound itself to the hull and destroyed the tram.

As it was, it hit Curtis hard enough to knock him on his ass. His head spun; he wouldn't get it off in time. "Curtis!" She swept over and snatched the hot piece of metal from his stomach. Henceforth, an idea presented itself. She could throw this grenade into the Graverobber's mouth as he intended.

_You disgust me. _Her maw hung open in contempt. It would be easy. _I will bring you to the Red God personally; its presence will burn your mind clean._

She couldn't do it, though. Killing her family was out of the question. Dismembering them was bad enough. The burning mass in her hand whirred as the plasma within neared critical mass. She tossed it over her shoulder, where it shook the air with its immolation. And that was the end. The horde advanced. More shots arced from her Plasma Cutter. Her body did all the work as she fought to remain in control. She needed to be the one doing this, not only so she bore responsibility for her actions but also because such disassociation might provide the Red God an opportunity to influence her body for evil.

They were close now. Mere feet away. She and Curtis would die before her siblings went for Isaac. _I'm so sorry. You deserved better._

Then they were away.

It took Nicole a moment to recognize the grinding of gears and the low hum of bone against metal. They also shook Curtis from his daze and many Necromorphs off. He leapt up, suddenly finding himself with a lot more breathing room. Both knew what they needed to do.

Voltaic fire streamed from their weapons, painting the air yellow and cobalt with the sheen of different temperatures. Her skin crackled from the excess electricity, but that was nothing compared to what the Graverobber received: dozens of bolts to the left scythe. It was far tougher than conventional Necromorph tissue, perhaps reinforced with excess sinew. Once burned to the decaying bone, though, it creaked and finally snapped off, allowing the tram to barrel into the night.

The vehicle slammed back down onto the tracks, sending her remaining siblings splatting to the ground below. It took all her strength to not succumb to the same fate, but she held on, as did Curtis. Below, she heard Isaac whooping and hollering from within.

**10 Hours, 45 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Curtis sat on the tram's roof, feeling rushing wind buffer his helmet. The ubiquitous smoke was less dense up here, which allowed him to see farther than ever… though there wasn't anything to see. Just black for as far as his vision carried. The view was studded only by occasional lights, illuminating nothing.

It reminded him of his childhood in the North Carolina Hubs. Some nights, he took an elevator to the top of the tallest apartment building he could find and just sit there. Above the smog and pollution, he occasionally saw stars – the only times ever before he left Earth. What magic they held then! Almost as much as the terror they represented now.

"_The stars are ours", _he thought. That was the USM's motto – a rallying cry displayed next to soldiers planting a flag on another world claimed for humanity. Not exactly tough when there weren't any aliens to fight off. Funny. He wanted to be a marine when he was a kid; figured it'd be a good way to get away from his shitty situation, maybe even contribute to human greatness!

Now he saw the stars were never for humanity. They belonged to forces much, much darker. Just as the pitiful lights in here shone upon foul beasts, who knew what horrors writhed in the orbits of other suns. Maybe Mercer had a point about humanity being locusts. If they travelled too far and took too much, something was bound to notice and exterminate them like pests.

The gondola skidded to a stop. Curtis instinctively shot up, though he knew nothing was wrong. _It's normal, _he told himself. He stole a final glance back. Neither sight nor noise broke the fog. Some Necromorphs doubtlessly pursued, but it'd be several minutes before they caught up. Everyone would be long gone by that time.

"Curtis," Nicole whispered. "What's wrong?" He ignored her, as he had a few times before. There was nothing he wanted to say. Voices stirred below. Isaac and Kendra and Hammond. Nicole needed to be explained to them (Isaac probably did just that), so they might as well deal with this problem right now.

"Was Isaac right about you?" he inquired, his voice cracking. It hurt to ask, a knife in her gut and his, but he needed to know. "You could have thrown that explosive into the Graverobber's mouth, but you didn't. Just tossed it aside. It would have killed me if Isaac didn't get us out of there." Her mandibles drooped. They had no right to evoke such pity. Suffice it to say, he feelings about her were more complicated than ever. His gut whirled like he'd been on a roller coaster for an hour straight.

"I know you are an only child, but say you had a brother or sister. If they were about to kill you, would you use lethal force to stop them?" The poser was a good one, but it didn't take him long to answer.

"I would." It took Nicole aback. "Brother, sister, father, mother: if they tried to murder me, I'd respond in kind." At least, that's what he thought. He couldn't say for sure, considering he'd never had _any _of those people.

"Not me," she replied. "I know they are monsters to you, but they are my family. No, more than that. They are closer to me than you can imagine. Remember what you said about helping you feeling like tearing off my own arm? You were right. I sense every life you snuff out, feel it scream in my mind before being silenced. I understand why you do it, but it's not something I can do myself."

He expected an "I'm sorry," but none came. Meanwhile, Isaac called for them to get down so the others could see the "abattoir incarnate". Better than what he'd called her before, at least.

"I'll think about your reasoning," he said. Her eyes lit up. "I don't agree with you, but I'll try to think about it from your perspective." He saw her point, after all, but it'd be a pain to not have her fighting at full capacity. Huh. That was empathy – something he thought he lacked. Again, this nightmare at least turned out to be a reservoir of self-discovery. With that, Curtis slid down the metal and found himself in front of the other two. Looked even more haggard than they did over the holo-screen.

"Mason," Kendra curtly said, extending a hand, which he took. Her temper seemed to have faded, though, again, he completely understood why she had it to begin with. This process was repeated with Hammond, and both of them wiped their hands on their slacks.

"Our engineer says you have a 'pet zombie'. Is that true?" Honestly, Curtis admired his tone. While that was an unbelievable thing to say (then again, the whole situation was outlandish), he sounded genuinely curious instead of incredulous or mocking.

"Ni – I mean, _Drone _is her own person," he stammered, congratulating himself for not revealing his friend's name. "It's OK! You can come out," he said to the top of the gondola, hoping the two wouldn't shoot the second she popped her head out.

The hands came first, though, eliciting sharp gasps from both of them. Then came the top of the head, eyes included. She didn't seem so scared around these people, just cautious; perhaps dealing with Isaac accustomed her to introductions. Kendra and Hammond both shivered slightly but showed no signs of aggression. Satisfied, she jumped off, landing gracefully as a cat.

"It's a pleasure."

There was no time for niceties, even though everyone would have liked them. The tram was still on a schedule – not much time before its designated minute was up. Therefore, soldier and computer specialist muttered some halfhearted introductions before embarking. The time for questions came later, and they'd take all the help they could get! "Remember, we're going to the Bridge to get the data. Prep the shuttle for launch. As for what to do with Drone when we leave…"

Curtis couldn't tell whether Hammond drifted into contemplation or continued speaking, for the gondola departed. That left the three together in silence… mostly. As the trolley sped away, new noises became audible in the far distance: wailing and gnashing of teeth.

"We should leave," said Isaac, who gave voice to all their thoughts. They did just that, cutting through subdecks and systems for the quickest route back. The more Curtis thought about it, the more it made sense the engineer was such a good cartographer. He'd been on the Ishimura before, and his job entailed him knowing every system and room.

They crawled in the decks between decks, the space between spaces. A tight fit, and he couldn't even remember how they got in. Dangerous, though. Exposed wires everywhere, blades sharp enough to puncture his RIG and who knew what else. Only Isaac's mastery of disarming these devious traps made him confident enough to wiggle through them; far worse than the vents in his opinion. Not something he'd ever brave on his own.

Eventually, they reached a small grate in the floor. Nicole signaled that there weren't any Necromorphs in the vicinity, so Isaac fished the laser cutter from his pocket and burned through the chiffon metal. Curtis hauled himself out of the little crawlspace. From there, it was only a short walk back to the hangar the Kellion "docked" in.

That's when his stomach churned. _There must be some in there. _The Red Marker realized where their escape vector was and what they planned to do; would've been foolish not to order a battalion of Necromorphs to converge there.

"You sense anything?" he whispered. He'd already explained the hive mind as best as he could to Isaac. Her mandibles formed a frown, and she stalked forward. _Guess that means it's safe._

…

Nicole felt her siblings simultaneously near and far away as she strode down the runway with Isaac and Curtis. Just a few. Their minds were… quiet. Simple. Though her brothers and sisters could be denigrated as animals with their single-mindedness, they did ultimately have their own thoughts and feelings, even if those paled before the greater good of spreading Convergence.

These consciousnesses were more akin to lucid ghosts than full-fledged intellects. Nerves coiled. Muscles tensed. She was ready for anything. The ship's fires largely ran their courses, merely smoldering now that they'd consumed most of the room's oxygen. The brightest spot was its slightly luminous CEC logo: a planet being crushed between a clamp. Such power humanity thought it wielded…

Shockingly, they reached the entrance without incident. No attacks or ambushes or even accidents. Still, the petty minds ceaselessly scrutinized her own. It unsettled her. Normal Necromorph minds, she was used to, but this was like interfacing with amoebae. Not unnatural, but it made her skin crawl.

"There may be some inside," she whispered to her comrades, who raised their weapons and nodded. At least they wouldn't back down from a fight.

The interior actually didn't look that bad; some systems appeared broken, but the lights still worked, and air still flowed. The exterior blast shields had lowered, which doubtlessly saved the vessel. The damage would have been much worse without layers of ablative metal across the front end. The place still evoked as much tackiness as a spacecraft could with plaid shag carpeting and ersatz leather seating. Even the undead had a better sense of interior design! _Can't believe the CEC lets its property look so ugly._

"Anyone hear that?" Curtis whispered. Her ears took a moment to adjust. Skittering… like rats. She vaguely remembered the fuzzy little creatures from some of her seedier dwellings; they followed in the wake of humanity wherever it travelled, even across stars. None here, though – she could have smelled them. Crepitating embers and her mind deceived her. Nobody was here.

"All right," Isaac said as he rolled his shoulders, "I know this looks bad, but there shouldn't be many internal problems. I just have to take care of the hull. Won't be pretty, but it'll hold together long enough to get us to the nearest colony." He walked to the front and began to open what appeared to be the primary control panel. The scurrying sound in her head drove her wild. A hand on her shoulder made her leap a foot in the air.

"You're tense," Curtis remarked.

"Something's wrong," she replied, the sounds increasing within and without. "We're not safe here."

Isaac's fingers grasped the rectangle's edges. Felt like she'd been shot in the head. The sensation was emptiness. Convergence was to hunger, and this was an exemplary illustration of such. Something within her knew her boyfriend faced terrible danger.

She lunged forward to yank him away. Isaac struggled and shouted for half a moment before his knees went weak. Flesh cascaded from the opening. All Necromorphs were meat, yet these were little more than animate blobs of flesh. Hands. Feet. Fingers. Toes. Ears. Tongues.

She wondered what happened to those fragile appendages so easily hacked off by her kin. Some were assimilated into the Corruption. It seemed others served different purposes.

They couldn't scream; no vocal cords. That should have comforted, but the splorching sounds they produced as they slithered forward like snakes were actually worse. Curtis screamed something about moving out of the way, but she couldn't. Not enough space to aim. Most ships crammed the crew as tightly as possible. The Ishimura and planet crackers generally were exceptions. Isaac was in front as she hauled him, however, so he fired at the meaty dollops with reckless abandon. A few were vaporized in the hail of plasma, but more streamed from every opening… including the ones behind them. A quick glance back confirmed they were surrounded.

In close quarters, these imps would have been dangerous enough alone. Mosquitos could kill a man with a thousand bites, and both these men had already been beaten to pulp. Would have been a simple matter of smothering them, worming into their RIGs and tearing their bodies apart. They'd do far worse to her.

Curtis and Isaac stood back-to-back. "Stasis?" the former asked the latter.

"You read my mind."

Of course, it wasn't so simple.

Something dropped from the ceiling behind her. Another impossibly thin shape stepped from behind an auburn curtain while a third rolled from beneath the plaid rug. These weren't her brothers. No, they were legions unto themselves, comprised of severed arms, legs, heads: meatier chunks that had been shorn off.

Eight feet tall they stood, yet no wider than a normal person's leg. Impossibly long, thin arms dangling so low their knuckles scraped the floor. Their heads were shriveled and dried like those of mummies. Every inch of their exposed, craggy muscle shivered and writhed. She recalled a curious animal she studied on the way to becoming a physician – the Portuguese man o' war. While it resembled a jellyfish, it was actually a colony of separate hydrozoans so closely interconnected they operated as one organism.

Many other Necromorphs were comprised of multiple humans, yet those incorporated all their constituents together into a singular entity. Not so with this creature. Its parts were imperfectly bound, individual morphons squished together with no more intelligence than their smaller cousins. These were animals, plain and simple. She would feel no guilt for ripping them apart even as they claimed her flesh. Well, she would drag them with her to –

Isaac broke away from the group, dashing nearly as fast as her! He slammed his helmeted head into one of the creatures' chest before plowing through the mass of meat.

"Just keep them off me!" he yelled before being engulfed by the necrotic tide. "Have to activate…" Time was molasses as she turned between Isaac and Curtis, the latter slowly priming his gun. Both were surrounded by, from their perspectives, demons. She couldn't help both.

Her body reacted before her mind, and its movements shocked her.

Curtis fired the Line Gun, which chopped one of the highly stressed skeletons in two. That proved to be exactly the wrong choice. The beast released a woodwind moan before disintegrating into a pile of limbs, all of which promptly sprouted little extensions of their own and swept over him. Another of these creatures shambled over as he squirmed, swinging its arm back and readying it to smash through Curtis' skull!

"No!" Her right hand's claws went through its shoulder like butter, and she easily wrenched it off with her left, crushing the life from it before it could animate. Her best friend and boyfriend were overwhelmed by these animals! Even if they were the Red God's progeny like her, she couldn't acknowledge these as siblings. More like mangy dogs that needed to be euthanized.

She plunged her fangs into its neck, her mouthparts crushing and tearing like a chainsaw. Bits of meat flew through the air as she tore into anything and everything that threatened her adopted family. Much as she loved her siblings and "father", she would never forsake the humans who cared about her. As they didn't give up on her, she wouldn't abandon them. Curtis had now run out of ammunition; he flailed as she did, throwing himself against the wall to crush the parasites scuttling over his exoskeleton. More came, biting, stinging and scratching her eyes.

Isaac emerged from his own morass, clawing every inch of the way as they began to burrow through his suit. "Run! Get out of here!" he yelled before unloading the rest of his clip into the ship's dashboard and slamming a series of buttons.

"Shockpoint drive overloading," the Kellion's AI stated over the orgy of flesh. "Evacuate the vessel." Blue sparks poured from exposed circuits as they rushed out. Well, not exactly rushed. More of a slow saunter; the noise and light and heat made it difficult for _them, _sapient beings. The sensations overwhelmed these animals more. Their petty minds blazed with primitive passion, akin to insects drawn toward a bug zapper.

That's exactly what happened, too. The sea of flesh parted as they all dragged themselves, blooded, beaten and rather humiliated, out of the wreck. The humans applied some stasis for good measure. Limbs and blobs flocked towards the pretty colors that would herald their doom. She felt their feeble intellects one last time. For all their rage, they were also so innocent.

"Uh, Curtis? You've got a little something on your neck," Isaac said. Nicole looked over. No kidding. Curtis reached behind him and pulled a head with tentacles sprouting from the base trying to squeeze his own skull off. Might have been a threat were it not burned to Hell, half its brains dangling out. Curtis looked at the thing a moment. Its shriveled eyes met his veiled ones… right before shooting out as he crushed it in his hands. Brains and congealed blood dripped on the floor, and he tossed the pancake-shaped husk over his shoulder. Hey, she didn't blame him.

They were trapped now. Perversely, that part somewhat enticed Nicole. She didn't have to choose between her adopted family and her biological one. She could have her cake and eat it, too. Still, this giddiness came part and parcel with shame. _Some friend I am, wanting them to die here._

"What did you do?" Curtis whispered to Isaac, on the verge of breaking down. All his hopes were bound up in this vessel.

"They completely destroyed the inside. No way I could've fixed it."

The Kellion went up in smoke. Not fire, for that required oxygen that no longer existed. It creaked, cracked… and imploded. They could do nothing but stare as their salvation collapsed into a pile of rubble, burying a thousand tiny corpses in a single charred grave. It would have taken much longer for their eyes to stop wandering across the withered husk were it not for the static that blasted from Isaac's RIG.

"What the Hell is going on? What happened to the shuttle?" Hammond shouted. From the background, she could tell they actually made it to the Captain's Nest; the yellow hologram of Aegis VII still dutifully wobbled on its axis. He only needed to see their slumped postures to tell, but Isaac rotated the screen to face the smoldering hulk.

"That was our way out," Kendra said. She saw the ship's fire reflected in her eyes… and maybe something deeper. Couldn't tell over this paltry screen.

"Kendra…" Hammond tried to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she pushed him away.

"No, Hammond. This changes everything." Really? From her perspective, it changed very little.

"Can you access the command computer? The captain's private channels?" Isaac interjected. He seemed to have recovered and now forged a new plan. Always seemed to have something up his sleeve. "It's a longshot, but maybe there's something that'll give us another way out."

Kendra hastily typed something into the console. "No, there's an executive lockdown on it. I can't access it without authorization from Mathius or one of the executive officers. They're all dead, probably." Her boyfriend cringed in her eyes' corners. She squeezed them shut, but it was as if she could see through the sheer, wrinkled lids. "I'm sorry, Isaac. I didn't mean – "

"Well, where are they?"

"Don't know. That information's part of the private channels themselves. We're flying blind."

Curtis looked at Nicole, his expression clear from body language alone. She could solve this problem herself; the codes were probably in her office somewhere.

"Mathius is in the morgue. Was, at least. He might have gotten up and wandered away," she said. Getting the codes from the captain was her first choice. Explaining herself to Isaac was turning out to be anything but easy. Curtis cocked his head but nonetheless acquiesced. It touched her how much trust he put in her. How little of it was deserved. Some of that strange feeling again flowed from him to her.

Hammond sighed. "The tram's coming back to the Flight Deck. Take it over to Medical; find the captain, get his RIG, send the codes."

"What was that?" Kendra asked. The camera again flew around like a drunk pigeon until it lit upon a Leaper burst fresh from a vent.

"Move!" The Leaper lunged through the screen like a bad horror movie scare. It exploded in a blast of static; the last she heard was gunshots before the feed went dead. They'd already broke into a run before that happened, though.


	17. Linked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Thanks for returning; I'm sure you all have important stuff to do, so I appreciate you taking the time. This is the longest chapter yet. I'm happy with my ability to keep them roughly the same size now; ASaF's fluctuated wildly.
> 
> I want to establish my interpretation of how Markers work. DS lore is very slippery about them, but this is their relationship with the Brethren Moons as I see it; they facilitate the linking of Necromorphs with the Moons. The Moons are all part of the same hive mind and influence Necromorphs via Markers like pawns, but Markers also have their own minds (which is why the Black one is helping). Once enough biomass is in a spot, all the disparate Necros are integrated into the proto-moon and lose any semblance of individuality. It's complicated.
> 
> As Nicole supposes, Convergence hasn't happened yet because there's not quite enough people on Aegis and the Ishimura for the process to start, so the Marker's waiting for more people to wander its way. Wanted to clarify that because it's brought up so much. By the way, if any of my fans are medically trained, could you check the accuracy of my medical writing? I am in no way knowledgeable but hope I'm on the right track.
> 
> There's also someone I want to give a very special shout-out to: CelfwrDderwydd. Many of you are already familiar with this great author, and some of his AvP works, namely "Astral Link" were the primary inspiration behind the "bond" that Curtis and Nicole are forming and how such a thing might impact a romance. It's between a human and a Xenomorph, in that case, but check out his works if you want to see more of the concept. He's a great guy, a great author and a good friend. Check out his DA if you ever need copper jewelry commissioned (like I did).
> 
> Thanks to RABIDPANZER, DERPYSAUCE, JASONVUK, DANTE ALIGHIERI1308, CRIMSON AN'XILEEL and ANCIENTOFDAYZ for reviewing. Hope you all enjoy!

**11 Hours Post-Outbreak**

Curtis winced as another muscle in his leg tore. Somatic Gel did nothing; the amount in his body reached critical mass for the next several hours. His tissues must have been completely saturated, and he idly wondered what his cells would look like under a microscope before the pain ripped him from these pointless delusions. He knew nothing about the miracle drug's science save that, like any other drug, one could overdose.

Isaac also felt the burn if his hobbling gallop indicated. His RIG was like Curtis' old one: dense and made of metal. That'd hurt him in the long run, but it wasn't like there were any other advanced polymer security suits on the Ishimura. Well, maybe, but good luck finding them!

Their steps slowed as they approached the station, hoping the tram would be present. He was disappointed but not surprised when he saw only a gaping hole.

"We should wait in the hall," Nicole said. "Might be noticed by stragglers from that group if we stay by the tracks." Good point, but it still saddened him to revoke the plush benches that practically called his name.

_Really? That's what I'm upset about, as opposed to the thousands of dead people? _His face burned in self-loathing. He'd survived longer than anyone else. The Black Marker chose him as its "champion", he supposed. _Why me? I'm not a good person. Why am I the one still alive?_

A familiar whistle resounded up the tunnel, growing louder and shriller by degrees. Isaac let out a small whoop, a sign of his excitement that his slapdash fixes held. The tram rolled in a few moments later, blasting smoke and gore in its wake. The former was normal. The latter, not so much. Curtis peered over the side for a clue. He got more than that; the answer punched him in the face, or at least the smell did, making him retch. Having his helmet off meant foul air directly assaulting his olfactory nerves.

The vehicle dragged along a vast amount of collagen, jamming the undercarriage and making the structure reek. His heart leapt at first; it must have taken out the Graverobber when it sped back around! A more thorough inspection deadened these hopes. This wasn't the correct texture of flesh and no bony shards poked out. More likely a large patch of Corruption grew across the tracks that the gondola snatched up. _Good thing this is maglev, otherwise it'd have even more problems._

Odor aside, they boarded, and Curtis' knees caved. He flopped onto a seat, collapsing into sleep almost before he landed.

…

_ **YOU WONDER WHY I SHOULD SELECT YOU. WHY YOU LINGER AS THE WORLD DIES AROUND YOU. DO NOT DESPAIR. I AM NOT THE FORCE KEEPING YOU ALIVE – YOU ARE.** _

Curtis again found himself in the endless black, the very bottom of the Gulf of Mexico. Thousands of tons from the water column above should have pulverized him to pulp. He didn't even have a helmet! It was a dream, yet the slanting monument stuck in the slime, illuminated with the bioluminescence of deep-sea creatures, begged to differ.

"You're saying I'm good at staying alive?" he asked the pylon.

_ **YES. THAT IS WHY I CHOSE YOU; YOUR WILL TO LIVE IS ASTONISHING.** _

No arguing with that. It relieved him to know he wasn't a prophesied savior or some outstanding paragon. He was merely a man well-suited for killing zombies with a massive dollop of luck on the side. That'd help him sleep at night once he got more than 15 or 20 minutes to rest at a time.

_ **THAT IS ALL.** _

This thing wasn't very chatty. Understandable. What was it supposed to say to a "mere mortal". Besides, the less he knew about its plans the safer it was. He didn't really want to know, anyhow. Well, there was _one _thing.

"Wait," Curtis gasped, sucking in breaths of inky water that didn't affect him in the least. "Tell me if Gabe and Lexine are OK! Let me know that much!" He was on his knees in the primordial slime, groveling to this inhuman "god", this graven menhir, to grant a petty request. Did it even understand the concepts of friendship and apprehension?

Icy liquid stung his face. Abyssal fishes danced around his body, their lights obstructing and merging with the Marker's own.

_ **I KNOW NOT. THERE ARE NONE OF MY BROTHER'S SPAWN WITHIN SOL, HOWEVER.** _

Oh, thank Altman. He heaved a massive sigh of relief. Even if they didn't make it, neither did McNeill. Humanity was safe for a moment. That was nearly enough. A single other thought danced in his mind. He was too embarrassed to ask, but it was a literal psychic.

_ **YOUR FEELINGS ARE… UNUSUAL. THEY ARE NOT WRONG, THOUGH. I HAVE SEEN "LOVE" DEVELOP THROUGH THE HISTORY OF YOUR SPECIES. BEAUTIFUL, EVEN IF I CANNOT EXPERIENCE IT MYSELF.** _

Would have been a real "aww shucks" moment if he wasn't being lectured by an unliving space rock. Still, he _supposed _that made his affection OK. Honestly, the whole charade just depressed him. He had direct access to the deity for billions of people, and he used it like a fucking Magic 8-Ball. He stewed in the feeling until the world went black.

…

Nicole stared at Curtis' face as the tram sped along. Its turbulent features shifted with every flash of light that strobed across from outside. Theta waves radiated from his nervous system instead of the delta associated with deep sleep. While not a somnologist (an increasingly relevant field in a galaxy that never slept), she knew these were signs of dreaming. This supposition was heightened by an aura of wonder. If only she could be a doctor now! She could innately sense patients' troubles and diagnose them easily.

He communed with the Black God. Nicole was honestly jealous. How incredible to speak with a deity who didn't want her dead! While not her ultimate progenitor – the gestalt intellect of a trillion minds in the far distance bore that honor – it was a thing of great power. Still, she was happy her friend had the opportunity to speak in her stead. _Well, he deserves it. He didn't start as a great man, but he's become one._

She always thought Curtis was a decent guy, but his consternation, impatience and perversion mostly vanished over the past hours, supplanted by a man who never gave up. There was much to admire in that.

"So," Isaac began as they peeled off from Engineering, "do you remember anything about your old life? I told you about trying to find my girlfriend. Is there anyone you want to see?" Wrapped in his words were the implicit doubt that she'd never find the person she sought. If only.

"Yes," she rasped. "I have a boyfriend. He was… very close to me. I love him." Part of her hoped these words would plant a seed of recognition within him, but nothing occurred. His eyes reflected the same heavy stare. "M-may I ask a question?"

"I already told you no once and you ignored me, so go ahead." A faint smile played across his lips, imbuing her with enough courage to bite the bullet.

"If I ever do find him, do you think he'd still love me like this?" She half expected Isaac to laugh her off, but he lowered his head in contemplation for several moments. All the world was rumbling metal, distant howls and Curtis' occasional snores. It felt like eternity before he answered.

"I don't know. You're still a person, but… _not. _I don't know if I'd call myself shallow, but I couldn't continue that kind of relationship with someone like you. No offense."

No offense. Those words were about as effective as an airbag in a plane crash. Not that she blamed Isaac. He didn't know it was her. _He'd take it back if he knew. I was speaking hypothetically – if he realized the truth, he would… _Her mind trailed off, and sadness racked her bones. _"He wouldn't call himself a shallow person". Neither would I._

She buried her face in her claws while her thoughts turned to despair.

Humans and Necromorphs shared was an inclination towards pettiness if nothing else. Her kind was ostensibly motivated by spreading Convergence, but they killed just as often because it brought prestige. That's what her last encounter with the Graverobber taught.

Humans pillaged the universe, devouring asteroids, comets and now entire planets in their wake! Someday they'd doubtlessly move to sucking stars dry. Despite this seeming dominion over reality, nearly all slaved away at pointless jobs, wasting trivial hours unshackled to indulge carnal pleasures – sex, food, mindless entertainment – that her brothers and sisters did not need.

She still thought Convergence was the best course for mankind, but nothing came. Despite the Red God's grand psychic pronouncements of impending ascension, no change occurred, physical or metaphysical. _Why is that? There must be more. _However, her deity (and it was her god – even if she no longer followed it, that would never change the fact it brought her back) was less than forthcoming with details. Perhaps it wanted to maintain an occult aura over the phenomenon, or maybe it didn't fully comprehend the process itself. However, she devised a supposition about Convergence's nature.

She was flesh, as were her brothers and sisters. The great gestalt intellect that lurked behind the Gods (Black and Red and perhaps other colors beyond her knowledge) was also flesh, she could discern. The gods were artificial monoliths, mere conduits for this incomprehensible force. They had minds of their own (they must have if the Black and Red gods were in conflict) not directly linked to the greater hive mind but facilitating it.

The question was why she and her siblings had not yet been inducted into this galaxy-spanning brain (and it might have been bigger than that), why Nirvana hadn't completely snuffed out their individuality. The answer became clear; more flesh was needed. The Ishimura was an enormous ship boasting a crew of thousands while the Aegis VII colony was coequal in scope. Nevertheless, it fell short of the critical mass necessary to become something more.

Did it need one more person? A thousand more? Didn't matter. The important thing was that it not take anyone else without their consent. That included Isaac. The characteristic chill in her gut burned white-hot; she wouldn't let her family lay a claw or blade on him. He'd been good to her all these years, and even if that time had come and gone, she still cared for him. Not as a sexual partner (dead flesh had no need for libido) or even necessarily a romantic one, but as a treasured friend. She hoped he wouldn't deny her that, at least.

Mercifully, Isaac's RIG-Link went off just as she slumped over in despair; she still needed time to digest what he said despite the mental crisis she'd suffered.

"Isaac? Are you there?" Hammond crackled before cutting into view. Curtis was snapped awake by the loud noise, actually falling out of his seat. She giggled – and then immediately stopped.

_I… laughed. _The sensation of air vibrating in her throat was alien, and not just because of the new way it sounded (almost like gravel in a lawnmower). It also represented something she hadn't felt in her entire "new" life: joy. Not contentment or even happiness – actual joy, the kind that made her want to dance or sing. _I haven't sung since I met Isaac. Like he said, we did karaoke together. _Taken with that strange aura of affection leaking from Curtis as healthy pus drained from a mending wound… well, she didn't know what that meant, only to watch it closely.

"Yeah. You all right, Hammond?" Isaac replied, taking no notice of the grounded miner who coughed up a little blood. Ouch.

The blue-tinged man smirked, but the lips were tight. Tense. "We were attacked, as you saw. The thing almost got me, but it didn't count on the kukri hidden in my boot." He hoisted up the Leaper's severed head, its eyes half-shut and mouth hanging wide open.

"And where's Kendra?"

"She left for the Computer Core: the hub of the onboard Transnet systems. Once you get those codes, she'll be able to do more there than here. I'm staying in the Captain's Nest to see what else I can find." Just as he said that, another blast of static tore the air, this one emanating from Curtis' RIG. Still groggy, he yelped and scrambled back. "Speak of the devil."

"Shouldn't have given my RIG number," he murmured, shaking his head.

"Just wanted to check in. I'm safe here; it's a very defensible position." A couple items spilled from his pouches, which he groped around for. One of them was the fissured Marker necklace, her deity in miniature. The other was something she hadn't beheld before. Now that she had, though, it stole her attention. Practically hypnotized her.

The curio in question was a small, aquamarine mask, perhaps forged from cobalt. _Forged; _she was no smith, but something so precise likely didn't come from a production line. Six horns projected from the head, three on each side of the face. While it resembled a human, part of it was _other. _She actually felt her vision rattle from her psyche to the Red God, then beyond, siphoned to the incomprehensible trillion minds that marionetted them all. And when it reached them…

It growled. She hadn't yet heard this entity's "voice" and now that she had, she nearly collapsed.

The snarl shook the universe. Flashes of red giants and white dwarfs came to her. The voice lived in the depths of space, millions of miles from the nearest star, and mere miles from the surfaces of pulsars, whose radiation and gravity would shred all else. All this in under a second. That was then she _knew _resistance was futile. A god was hard to defy. A family was worse. How could she hope to stand against a mind the size of a galaxy that was lord and clan rolled into one? Whatever this was, they hated it.

"What is that?" Kendra took notice of the priceless bauble, as well.

"I'm not sure. There was…" His face flushed scarlet with blood. Surprising. How important was this that his failing body could afford to allocate ichor for embarrassment. "Well, there was a crazy guy named Eckhardt. He tried to murder people, so – I didn't kill him!" He trembled, the exoskeleton suddenly seeming too big for him. He rattled around in it like a caged animal. "But I let him die. This seemed… important. It's Unitologist. An Enigma mask, I think."

He flipped the detailed, inhuman face around to reveal the barren back to his audience of a human, formless wraiths and a literal zombie. Only one feature marred the perfect blue: a word.

**ORACLE**

"I see," Kendra muttered. Something wasn't right with those two words. They were stiff. On edge. That was it. They arrived at the Medical Deck a couple moments later.

"Find Mathius, get his RIG information, send it to us." Isaac nodded, and both screens simultaneously blinked away.

"That was strange," he mumbled as a helmet formed around his skull, machinery supplanting man. "We should go." No argument there. "And I saw that necklace. You aren't a Unitologist, are you?" He tried to phrase it casually as if the answer was no big deal. It didn't work.

"No. I was, but after everything I've seen here…" He trailed off, probably weighing whether to tell him about the Black Marker speaking to him. "I'm not, but they're not all bad." Isaac scoffed.

They all dismounted the tram. She recalled a sickening vertigo that used sometimes used to wash over her at such times. It didn't this time, though; she almost missed it.

What she didn't miss was the graffiti. Street art could be beautiful, but the squiggles, hopeless pleas to the universe and portraits of the Red God in blood and feces fell somewhere on a spectrum of despair to sacrilege. And those were nothing compared to _this. _Mercer had been busy.

The archway leading from the station to the deck proper was wreathed in garlands of limbs and undead flesh. Reanimated collagen wiggled around, trying to escape its binds of nails and staples. It was an unliving warning heightened by the words emblazoned on the ground in jagged black letters.

**HAVE HOPE, ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE**

She knew this alluded to something religious but couldn't recall what. Spirituality had never been her forte (before rising from the dead, anyway). Every major faith besides Unitology had been dead for centuries, consigned to history and a few scattered World Heritage Sites, primarily in the West Asian Sector.

It didn't concern her what gruesome decorations the mad doctor decided to string up, even if they did weakly scream at her with their animal minds like dogs braying at passing cars. Less biomass to attack them.

Curtis, however, was incensed. Anger dripped off him like sweat. That he went to such great efforts to "welcome" them made him steam.

"Who did this?" Isaac gasped.

"A madman named Challus Mercer," she replied. "Quack, egomaniac and Second Medical Officer." She decided to leave out the "necrophile" part; didn't need him to be more disgusted than he already was. "I was a physician here, myself. I knew him in life. He was crazy even before the Marker got to him." She dropped the last part as a final desperate hint. If he didn't take the bait, she'd have to punch him in the face with the whole truth. She respected and cared for him too much to think her alive.

"Fucking Marker-Headed creeps…" Curtis bristled under the slur. Even though he wasn't exactly one anymore, he despised such generalizations even if he fell back on them in angry fits.

"_Everyone's _going mad, Unitologist or not. I've seen all kinds of people butcher themselves and each other." Isaac merely grunted while Curtis' hands balled into fists. "I'm insane. You will be soon, too."

"You don't know my life. I can handle death."

"Not like this."

…

Curtis didn't entirely understand why he was so angry. He'd oscillated on Unitology dozens of times over the past week: good, evil, neutral. It was the Marker causing these things, anyway. _A _Marker, at least, as there were _some _bad people.

Maybe that was why resentment built within him so quickly. He was in cahoots with the Black Marker. If they were all bad, then _he _was bad. He didn't consider himself a good person, but he didn't want to be evil! Still, he believed his decision to play along as some "chosen one" was for the best. The Black Marker's intentions may not have been purely egalitarian for humanity – its "children" – but the future it had planned must have been better than the one its "brother" wrought. Right?

He sighed as they crossed into the main room with the Security Station. How many times had he been there, and would he return for more "check-ups"? It somehow got uglier. More decay, more clutter. The small Corruption tracts present last time swole several feet over the past hours. He almost _hoped _it was a hallucination, because if it was real…

The ship was dangerous to navigate now. A few more hours and intractable would become impossible. The haphazard amalgamation of metal morphed into a hellish organic hive. The whole of humanity might follow suit.

"How do we get to the morgue?" Isaac asked, though he pulled up his map anyway.

"A couple ways," Nicole replied. "Not as many as there used to be. Corruption is completely blocking some halls at this point. Others have collapsed." Her head shivered within the cage of her six claws. Looked like she had a seizure; Curtis couldn't imagine the simultaneous strain and beauty of looking through a thousand eyes. Envy stabbed him in the gut. If such an ability didn't require dying, he would have opted for it in a heartbeat. Never again would he be alone.

"We could probably get through the BPC or the Image Diagnostics Ward." Great, _those _places again. Slaughtering infants was a highlight in terror, and it sounded like Nicole's adventures through the IDW weren't much better.

_Still, most of the babies should be gone by now. _As they said, though, two was company and three was a crowd. He and Nicole managed a modicum of stealth because she naturally blended in and his RIG was fairly lightweight. Isaac possessed neither advantage. His suit clinked and clanked, the essential tools in his pockets rattling like silverware in a drawer. "Maybe we should split up," Curtis suggested, adding these observations about sneakiness.

There was another equally important impetus, however. Isaac would go mad despite his bravado. Unless he somehow had superhuman powers like Lexine, he was screwed. With his angry temperament, he'd endanger everyone. Better to keep him by himself, Curtis figured. _Man, I wish Lexine was here. Her abilities would help us all. _He didn't even feel guilty about that desire; their odds of survival skyrocketed with her psychic safeguards.

How crazy was that? ESP and the like were real. Zombies and aliens (in the form of Markers) and mental powers, all staples of fiction, threw themselves at him one after another. He wouldn't be surprised if he travelled back in time before all this was over! _If it ever is._

A long, slow banging noise reached his ears as they were about to depart. At first thinking it some massive, plodding Necromorph, his back buckled in fright. The thumping was too regular, though, hovering at the same volume and pitch. Nor was it machinery. A hallucination? No, Nicole's head turned, as well.

They all silently agreed to investigate, for it sounded close. Carefully, they slunk down a couple of characteristically unmarked walls save bland praises of the deck's "incredible crew" and garish advertisements for Assurance pharmaceuticals and Triggerlink 710 – brands that either paid the Concordance Extraction Corporation millions of credits for the advertising space or were subsidiaries of the CEC.

As they rounded the corner, though, his suspicion turned sweet and sour.

A Necromorph it was indeed. A Hunter. _Elizabeth. _She stood at the corridor's end, methodically bashing her head against the wall. Each hit made him recoil as the smack of meat on metal thundered down. He recognized patterns on her excoriated flesh from their earlier encounter, even more burned than before. Her skin literally smoked. Shrouds of steam wafted from her; the tunnel smelled of sizzling meat. She didn't notice them and wasn't in a state to care if she did.

Mystery solved. Neither of their routes went this way, so they could safely return and –

Nicole stepped out of cover and casually strode down the hall, making his skin crawl. Bad idea! Isaac, thinking she'd gone traitor, reached for his Plasma Cutter, but Curtis snatched his hand away and stared into the blue-tinted faceplate. "Don't." He activated the voice filter for that single word, which cowed the engineer into submission. "I'm not sure what Drone's doing, but it won't hurt us." At least that's what he hoped.

…

"Trance" wasn't the correct word to describe what girdled Nicole when she saw and felt her sister's misery. It was something akin to one, though: a drive to contact this woman and do something. She didn't know what, only that this was a level of horror and despair she'd never experienced before. Pain, too; muscles blazed with electricity.

Sorrow yawned like a black hole with each step, sucking her closer with its irresistible gravity. And then she was there. Air rumbled with sounds of bone splitting, mending, splitting, mending. The psychic realm hummed with an endless pit of sadness and despair. Elizabeth wanted to die – _really _die. Nicole tapped her on the shoulder with a claw, making her recoil.

_What's wrong? _Those were all the words she could muster. She knew nothing like this in this life or her last.

_You? I remember you. Mercer and the Red God want you and the human dead. _The words themselves implied a threat, but the tone conveyed no such thing. _Does he still live?_

Nicole gestured back to the other end, where Curtis stepped out to observe their mental dialogue. All he heard were squeals and grunts. Isaac also tentatively peered out. _Yes. And more humans have arrived… one of them very special to me. I'm trying to help them._

_Then you have purpose. Good, _she thought before going in for another bash. _I do not. _Slam. _It was taken away with my love. With Jacob. Your friend took him. _Crack. _I am grateful, though. He did not want this, but we were powerless to disobey. Mercer's neural implants are… "convincing". _Whack. _They still are. But now I am unbound to his designs and the Red God's. I feel the pain, yet it is nothing to what burdens my soul – if I have such. _Blam.

She pulled away from her self-flagellation to look directly at Nicole. Well, she couldn't quite _look _for a second. Her face was completely gone; dozens of full-force blasts into the steel wore it down to the brain cavity, now hollow save bits of gray matter, Mercer's cybernetics and a trough of rancid cerebrospinal fluid, which leaked onto her feet. Of course, it all regrew within moments. Biomass from the Corruption she stood on absorbed through her feet, pulsing up her legs and through her torso before contorting into new flesh and organs. Seconds later, she was whole again.

_I want to leave, Nicole. To be with Jacob again. _Be with him? _In death, I mean. There may be nothing after this, but I cannot abide Convergence anymore. Eternity without my love would be Hell._

By this point, Curtis and Isaac approached, the former explaining the situation to the latter: who this was, her origin, and so on.

"You're Temple's girlfriend?" he asked, dumbfounded by the fact that question left his mouth.

"I am." Elizabeth extended a massive lobster-like blade for Isaac to take hold of. She still possessed a sense of humor, it seemed. Nicole expected him to slap it away, but he gingerly reached out and shook. It looked absolutely ridiculous.

"I knew him. Worked under him during my tour on here. He was a brilliant engineer. More than that, he was a good man. I'm sorry this happened to the two of you." Ah. There it was. This was the man she loved, emerged from the morass of cynicism and fear. Even in his terror, there was good in him. If only he still saw it in her.

"As am I. I will continue working towards my somatic penance. When the time comes, I will die." None of them knew what to say. Nicole herself didn't understand; she loved Isaac, but she wouldn't throw her "life" away because he no longer reciprocated her feelings.

"Come with us," Curtis suggested. "You'd be a big help, being invincible and all."

She must have expected the offer, for she quickly parried, "My mind is once again my own, but it may not last. The pain overwhelms me. Hurting any of you is the last thing I want. Continue without me; perhaps we will meet again." Curtis understood the decision yet still felt downcast about it. Though she couldn't sense Isaac's emotions the same way, it didn't take an empath to gauge relief despite his earlier kind words.

Elizabeth glanced between the two – Curtis on their left, Isaac on the right. Both tensed under the scrutiny. _You said the man on the right is your love? _Skepticism penetrated these unreal words. Nicole confirmed this. _How strange…_

_What?_

_Perhaps my mind already fails me, but the leftward one seems to emanate more affection. I sense tenderness and care directed at you. _Nicole stumbled backward at the mere suggestion! The humans blankly stared at their mental parlay. The fanciful part of her might have believed they carried out similar conversations by whispering in their helmets and spinning each other the audio logs. Her eyes met the azure slats that his peered through.

She wanted to dismiss Elizabeth's claim. Him loving her? Curtis made his disdain for her kind's physical appearance abundantly clear. _Unless he was coping? Or maybe he doesn't care what I look like. _That sounded even less probable; for all his good traits, she couldn't deny he was shallow when it came to romance. He seemed like the kind of man who'd be far happier with a pretty yet vapid partner than a caring or smart one of lesser "physical caliber".

Still, these feelings didn't make much sense outside the context of infatuation. They were stronger than what people felt for mere friends. And he _did _hallucinate about her earlier. Only great passion ignited such visions. It also explained why he was so adamant about helping her find her boyfriend; that might eliminate the guilt and shame ravaging his spirit… if, as Elizabeth said, those existed. She saw the world as a dichotomy of meat and metal, but perhaps there was something more that they all shared. _Maybe he does love me._

She was simultaneously honored and mortified.

Her kind didn't value love, per se, but certainly emotional and mental intimacy. They were all individual bits of the same superorganism, after all. If Isaac wasn't a factor, she might have welcomed this development even if she didn't reciprocate such feelings. But he was, and it made her shudder. Now she lied to _everybody _in one way or another.

"Are you all right?" Curtis asked, snapping her out of the funk. She vigorously nodded. Another lie. It shamed her. She shouldn't have needed to deceive!

They parted ways. Elizabeth trudged off to ponder existence before leaping into an incinerator while the other three went back into the room they came from, all rattled in their own ways.

**11 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Curtis and Nicole slunk toward the BPC as silently as they could, which wasn't as much as he would have liked. The squelching of their feet through oozing, melty victuals guaranteed that. _Never gets less disgusting. _Well, he hadn't seen any eyes or mouths in it since his odyssey through the vents, so those were probably illusory. _That's also when I first met Elizabeth. I hope she's OK. As OK as she can possibly be. _Too bad she didn't come with, but the knowledge a friendly Necromorph prowled the halls (and a nigh-unkillable one, at that) brought some peace.

The Line Gun rose in his hands as they rounded a corner; one of the three blue pointer lights that assisted with aiming died somewhere along the way, which would make things tougher than they already were. _Tough. A lot of shit's hard now._

_Don't worry, Curtis, _the fake Nicole whispered, sandwiching herself between him and the real woman. _It'll get easier soon. Once Convergence comes, we can be together. _Exhibit A.

_I don't want to be with you, you freak, _he mentally mused.

This torture would have been bearable if the genuine Nicole responded in any way. She certainly noticed his agitation, yet she plodded along in a dream, arms sagging and eyes straight ahead. Her cerebral chat with Elizabeth must've gone poorly to put her in such a state. He would have felt sorry for her if not mired in problems of his own.

_You think I'm the freak? _The doppelganger rolled her eyes and flashed perfect teeth. _You're the one who fell in love with a corpse. I wouldn't be here if not for that. _That was true. Fuck him and fuck his emotions! If only he was a psychopath who couldn't form relationships! Then he would have been stuck with the Shadow Man forever – a far better companion than this mockery.

"Curtis," the real Nicole whispered, tearing his attention free from the fake. "We're here."

Indeed. The door for this particular segment of the BPC was flanked by two small windows; bigger place than he realized.

A curious thing happened as the two approached. There was a crash. Moaning. Suddenly, a face popped up in one of the portals, tinted green by emerald lights flickering in the few tanks that still housed their payload of unliving infants.

"Hey! Hey! Let me out!" screamed the man drenched in blood. Curtis just stared. He wouldn't be bothered to help this hallucination. "Behind you!" What? These tricks didn't make sense anymore. The only thing behind him was Nicole, who –

"Curtis! Come on!" she shouted, dashing forward and slamming her hand on the door. It scanned for signs of humanity and found her wanting. "Get over here!" The man pounded on the window, his face frozen in terror. This was real. Somehow another person had survived. One who would die without their help.

"It's right behind me! It's – AAARGH!" The scream was fire in his veins. He sprinted forward, shoved an antsy Nicole out of the way and slammed down on the hologram. It sprang open. They rushed inside.

And it was too late.

The man lay dying. Thin blood pooled from wounds in his back caused by familiar bony shards. Those would have been salvageable with Somatic Gel. What sealed his fate was the barb sunk deep in the base of his skull. Nothing could bring him back from that. He still flopped around on the floor like a dying fish, but that life would be gone in moments.

Curtis clenched his teeth so hard he feared they'd break. His clamped fingers drew blood from their respective palms despite the gloves' padding. It was his fault. They could have saved this man if he trusted his own senses instead of castigating them! Maybe this man was the last human alive from the beginning besides him and Mercer. And he didn't even know the guy's name. Another death on his head. He'd never fucking forgive himself.

The most he could do was avenge this nameless survivor who somehow survived despite wearing only the most basic of clothing, armed with no weapon, possessing no tools. A Lurker scuttled out from the corner and hissed before curling its tentacles at him the way angry cats scratched the air.

"See if you can do anything for him," he muttered. If anyone could perform emergency brain surgery, it was her. Not that he expected results, but he couldn't simply let the man bleed out. Such a consummate survivor deserved some modicum of comfort on his deathbed. Nicole nodded and knelt down, trying to calm his bugging-out, fearful eyes. Curtis' job was much easier. Cleaner, despite being dirtier. Killing Necromorphs was actually a lot like mining. Both simple, mechanical jobs. Aim, shoot, shoot, aim until the target was carved into little bits. It was a profession for idiots. He'd done that for years; no wonder he destroyed so well.

He thumped toward the little monster. Would have appeared calm to a human, but his brain was ablaze. More hatred engulfed this breadbox-sized lump of flesh than any other Necromorph he'd ever encountered. Even the Graverobber didn't capture such animosity. Nicole claimed her kind couldn't feel pain. He'd test that.

Three barbs whizzed at him. He didn't dodge, letting them sink into his chest. He deserved it. The RIG halted nearly the entire thing, so they didn't penetrate his sternum. More scars to add to the doubtlessly raw, pockmarked skin beneath. A zombie himself, he kept coming without offering so much as a grunt.

Though it was a reanimated baby never designed to truly live, this creature recognized his undiluted rage. An aura of loathing saturated dead air. Saturnalia? Melancholy? These things dissolved before white-hot anger. Then he stood over the being not even a quarter his size, which staggered back. He felt himself crack a bloody smile. It was afraid. Good.

He fell upon the abomination, which kicked and screamed as an actual infant would. This induced no pity. Quite the opposite – his bloodlust boiled to new heights, like the mercury in ancient thermometers. After a bit of struggle, he had it pinned against the wall with his left forearm while his right hand engulfed its tiny skull. Fortunately, the face was mutilated enough that it couldn't emote. _That _might have stirred a modicum of remorse. As it was, he had no qualms with his actions. His only regret was that this monster could "die" only once.

"Hey, Red Marker," he snarled at the animate fetus. Nicole said every Necromorph that obeyed the eldritch obelisk received commands and thoughts from it. Maybe it worked the other way around. "My name is Curtis. That's Nicole." He gestured at his partner, who feverishly worked with her claws and bits of metal to perform desperate neurosurgery. "You couldn't take away her name. You can't take mine. We're going to beat you. I don't know how, but we've made it this far, and we have your older 'brother' on our side. And when you're nothing but maroon dust, no one will be the wiser."

His fist tightened around the fragile cranium throughout his tirade, slowly breaking rotten bone. The Lurker emitted a final squeal as its skull imploded, spatting metal and fiber with a mellifluent miasma. The tentacles followed. Curtis enjoyed plucking each one and feeling the body become flaccider as he went. He was like a child plucking wings off a butterfly.

Synchronously, the body hit the floor and a high-pitched whine split the air. He turned to Nicole. "There was nothing I could do. Maybe if this was the ICU instead of the BPC, but…"

As she trailed off, a pressure grew in his skull. He thought little of it at first. Migraines were so common he scarcely noticed the pain anymore. It worsened, though, the needle morphing into a claymore. He doubled over and would've vomited if there was anything left in his stomach; hadn't eaten anything since that burger, which was well into his colon. Through his sloshing vision, he saw Nicole keel over, as well. That's when he knew what caused this.

_ **YOUR CONFIDENCE IS BORN OF IGNORANCE. SHOULD THE MEWLING OF ONE PETULANT CHILD DISTURB ME? I OFFER AN EXISTANCE BEYOND YOUR COMPREHENSION.** _

The Black Marker's voice irritated his brain, but this nearly tore it in two. Red flashed in his vision, and the two-pronged crimson thing might as well have been a demon's horns. Reality quaked at something so powerful. Suddenly, Curtis regretted tormenting that Lurker. Its "father" was not pleased.

_ **YOU ARE DUST IN A SOLAR WIND. I AM ONE OF MILLIONS WAITING TO BE FOUND OR MADE. WE WILL CONSUME YOUR WORLDS AS YOU HAVE PLUNDERED THE UNIVERSE.** _

Curtis tried to choke out a defiant word or phrase. That's what heroes did, right? Maybe that was why the only thing to leave his mouth was a pitiful cry, the kind an emaciated dog produced when begging for food. That's when this abomination's power became clear. It wasn't merely a rock that could induce insanity and raise the dead (though "mere" was a laughable adjective when phrased like that). It was also a nexus of a trillion minds. He felt them for the briefest moment, a second between seconds. Nicole spoke of them, but until his mind touched theirs…

They were infinite, spanning the galaxy and perhaps beyond. All hungry. All waiting. All asleep until the time was right. Humanity couldn't hope to stand against it them. The Red Marker – though "Red God" suddenly sounded appropriate – was the least of his problems. Any sane person would be thoroughly broken by the knowledge.

Thunder. Smoke. It was gone.

His body was once again his own. His mind was still tainted by its influence. Always would be until they reduced it to ash and mortar. But he wouldn't break. Too angry and too stubborn. Did pigheadedness constitute insanity? It might in this case.

"We can't beat it, Curtis. Do you see now? I've humored you because you're a friend, and your cause is good, but know when to give up."

He pointed at the body. "You want me to end up like that?"

Nicole wanted to hit him. She would have if there was any way to do so without turning him inside out. "That man's dead because you were too slow. You thought him a vision without trying to discern reality. _You're _the one who surrendered!"

The hissed words stung. Truth usually did. There was nothing he could say, though. All the facts and falsehoods thrown at him needed to be sifted through. Elizabeth had the right idea. However, something needed to be addressed before he began his ruminations on futility and fate.

"What do we do with him?" he asked. Nicole crossed her arms; he already knew her opinion.

"We should leave him. We'll be long gone by the time he becomes a Necromorph." Fuck.

"He didn't want that. Nobody would! He tried to _claw _his way out!" he shouted. The faint marks of nails on the window were plain, as were the cracked nubs on his fingers' ends. "You're pissing on his grave if you let that happen."

"Of course people fear us at first. We're their dead come back to life and beckoning them to join us. As I've said, I wished the Red God gave people a choice instead of imposing its will on them, but most find they prefer this existence." Yeah, she was stronger, faster and didn't have to eat or breathe or shit. Maybe immortal until killed by an outside force, as well. He'd heard it before. It would have been convincing if it left people physically unaltered instead of mutating them into inhuman monstrosities.

_Yet I still find her attractive, _he thought, shuddering. He couldn't describe it. The rational part of his brain still wanted to cringe at the sight of her. The deeper processes manufactured something else. Not necessarily physically attraction – he'd have to see other Stalkers to know for certain – but more than purely intellectual. Apart from the smell and texture and the fact she was, well, _dead_, he found her just as alluring as she was in life. Maybe more. Like, breasts and asses still appealed to him, but he'd vomit if Nicole here somehow sprouted them. This was beauty of a different breed.

She was slim and fit, possessed great teeth and beautiful eyes. Unlike most Necromorphs, she was his size, couldn't melt or incinerate him with a touch (the claws were an issue, though) and walked on two legs. The only other phenotype he knew to fulfill all these was the Slasher… and they were too human. He'd look at them and always see the person they used to be staring back with hollow eyes. This was exotic elegance. Was it wrong? Maybe, but to Hell with that! So much of what happened right now was horrible.

…_no, _he thought, shoving love and lust aside. _I can't. She's with someone. _Polyamorous relationships were completely acceptable in the modern age (far too complicated for him, though he'd managed a couple three-ways with "friends" he'd met at bars), but he knew Nicole would never be interested in such a thing from how much she wanted to find her boyfriend. So he wouldn't ask. He'd keep his feelings bottled up inside, and he'd smile when she embraced her soulmate. It was the least he could do for her.

He didn't need to be honest about his feelings, though. She rubbed his face in them regardless.

"I know you're interested in me."

He'd faced greater dangers and fought harder battles in the past hours. Yet these words were a punch in the gut unlike anything else. They knocked the wind out of him; all six bullets peppered his corpse. His vision swam, and fake Nicole's laughter rattled in his head, the Red Marker's just behind. The obelisk thought him being infatuated with its "child" was hilarious. Hey, that was a better reaction than _some _guys got from their S/O's dads.

He wanted to lie and say she was mistaken or perhaps laugh the whole thing off. But he couldn't. Should've learned his lesson after the whole shitshow about Captain Mathius, especially to her. Therefore, he simply choked out, "How did you know?"

"Remember how I can 'feel' the minds of my brothers and sisters? I've spent so much time with you that I'm starting to experience something similar. I can taste and smell and hear your mind. Thought I was imagining it, but Elizabeth pointed out the obvious." Oh. Yeah, that made sense. His fantasies were hardly subtle.

"What do you think?"

Nicole seized up. Was body language physical or psychological, he wondered. Which part of her did he discomfort? "I don't know. Flattered, I suppose. Not many people would share them."

"Uh, Isaac was right; most people wouldn't." She cringed upon hearing the name. "But I promise I won't act on them. I'm not a good person, Nicole, but I really am trying to be better. I won't get between you two."

A shroud lifted from the room's artificial atmosphere. He might have even felt sedated if there wasn't a fresh corpse five feet away. The blood began to curdle from the oxygen, turning black like rot or oil. Islands of jellified platelets appeared within the miniature sea, breaking his reflection into hundreds. Hundreds of miners staring at and accusing him.

"Back to this." He sighed and shook his head. Such a waste of life. Air finally returned to his lungs after all being smacked out of him, but it was different. Guilty. Curtis was inclined to believe this was a one-off thing, a fluke. He'd checked again and again – there were no distress signals on the Transnet anymore. Hadn't been for hours. Even if _a few _humans still clawed their way along, beaten and bloodied, through the darkness, they were off-grid. Nothing could be done for these poor souls until they reached out.

He swallowed, tasting nothing but blood. His mouth long ago went dry, so he was grateful to have _something _lubricate his throat. Perhaps one more Necromorph wouldn't be so bad. He felt like that very thought betrayed humanity, and perhaps it did, but this was _his _fault! This nameless man having another "chance" at life could fix that! And if he really didn't like it, he could find a bottomless pit to jump down.

"I'll leave the body alone," he spat before he choked on the bitter words.

"Are you serious?" She had good reasons not to trust him after he'd kept his mouth shut for so long, but he still fizzled at her tone.

"I am. _If,_" he added, "we compromise. I gave you something you wanted. You need to return the favor." She crossed her arms. A human and a zombie stood in a verdigris room, bartering for the fates of the dead. He didn't know whether this was like something out of an ancient myth or just really weird.

"What do you want?" Curtis shrugged toward the incubation tanks. Most of them had already spilled forth their contents; gouts of glass and amniotic fluid slicked the floor. Out of these led tiny footprints to nearby vents. However, a few remained intact, fostering their organic yields. They didn't look so great; only half-alive to start with, pustules and tumors of various sizes and shapes coated them. Some of these Lurkers and Crawlers looked almost fully formed!

"I want to destroy them. In exchange for giving this man another life, these things can't have any." Doubt flickered across her face… at least he thought so. "I know you're apprehensive about killing Necromorphs, but they aren't your family yet! It won't be murder if we get rid of them now – they'll have never existed!"

Silence filled the room as both of them weighed what they were willing to sacrifice. Eventually, both extended their hands and shook. His five frail fingers in her three massive claws embodied a revelation. They were many things before, he realized. Friends. Warriors. Survivors. And now they were _partners. _Not just allies, but people who respected and appreciated each other even when they didn't see eye to eye. Didn't have the same number of eyes, in fact!

Curtis would walk into a Hell worse than this one for Nicole. That was the greatest accolade he could give someone. Warmth arced in his brain before settling down.

Nicole propped the man's body against a wall while he smashed the remaining tanks and stomped the neither living nor dead newborns into paste. Would've preferred to incinerate them entirely, but he unfortunately didn't have a PMF-100 Hydrazine Torch Flamethrower on him. Too bad – would've been a nice complement to the Line Gun, allowing him to sear _and _slice. He could make regular steak filets out of his foes! Didn't have anywhere to put it, though…

He wiped his boots on the corrugated metal, turning to see Nicole walk past. It should've been over. They'd partially reconciled their differences and decided to push forward. However, something about her behavior had bothered him for a while, and it came to the forefront when he mentioned Isaac.

"Wait," he demanded, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Now that my truth is out there, it's time to hear yours. What's up with you and Isaac?" She tensed up but didn't turn around, and he heard her suck in a hollow breath. "You've been acting funny since we met him. If I'm putting my cards on the table, I want to see yours." It took her several moments to formulate an answer.

"I'll… tell you later." She swiveled her craggy head to face him, and her eyes glinted with purpose. Honestly, he expected her to cave and confess immediately, but she remained confident as ever. He'd just browbeaten another Necromorph; nothing seemed impossible. "You deserve to know, yet the time's not right. I don't want you distracted." He cocked his head. Too late for that. "Look, I shouldn't have mentioned your thoughts. My family is open with all of them, but I'll try to respect your distance."

He appreciated that… though he had to admit, having a friendly voice in his head sounded really interesting. The Marker was manifestly evil, but would an affable mind beside his own be so bad?

They'd wasted time enough. With a final glance around the wrecked room, they pressed deeper into the ship.

…

If Nicole still had a circulatory system, her blood would have either boiled or froze as they paced the rotten halls, spread wide in sinuous splendor. Talking with Curtis induced vertigo. It reminded her of the time just before Curtis snapped and attacked her before they met Isaac and the rest. Back then, she "floated on a cloud". She still felt that way… only now she looked _down. _Flying wasn't so fun when you remembered you could fall. And she would plummet when she told him the truth about Isaac.

_Which I will. _Curtis was right. Concealing it much longer would have been a slap in the face. He could normally manage, but a hit from her would send his head flying. She needed to handle it with the utmost tact. Didn't want to risk upsetting him; with his mental state, such disappointment risked disaster.

The Morgue was near. A bog of pulsating morass marked the final obstacle, and they hauled themselves through admirably. Isaac waited for them near an entrance, helmet down, on edge but alive. The sight of him perched fairly calmly on the edge of this storm made her role her eyes. _Of course he had the easier route. _Still, she was glad to see him safe. So glad that she didn't notice the holo-screen overlaying him.

"Isaac, it's me. I wish I could talk to you."

_What's that? _she wondered as the person onscreen drifted into focus. The voice was familiar. _Very _familiar. _Kendra? _No one else it could be unless he was watching a vid or something. Then the snow died away, unveiling the woman. Her. The two parts of her lower jaw split in shock, awe and terror.

Fuck. There was no worse way for Curtis to learn this.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry about everything. I wish I could just talk to someone… it's all fallen here. I can't believe what's happening." Seeing the woman stirred something akin to winter static. It shot down her spine to nerves and ganglions; electricity whirled through her body like clothes in a washing machine.

_Did I really look like that? Sound that way? _She must have. Smooth skin. Hair – long blonde hair that she recalled Isaac calling beautiful. It was difficult to imagine her possessing those, along with only two eyes, a pitiful, weak nose and teeth only suitable for mashing cud. She remembered all these things as an outsider looking in. Curtis assured her that she was the same person inside, regardless of what instincts of beliefs she now had. Damn, she hoped that was true. Still, she regarded her form once more before returning to the former version of herself in the mirror.

Yeah, she didn't regret this one bit. If her "father" wasn't bent on eradicating humanity, life would've been perfect. By this point, Curtis' mask had pulled away. He looked at her, and she withered. Anger would've been fine, or disbelief. The only things that flowed from his eyes, though, were raw rivulets of disappointment. His mind expressed the same, amplified tenfold. Though already rotting, she atrophied like grass caught in a raging sirocco. Shriveled. Useless.

"It's strange. Such a little thing. In the end, it all comes down to just one little thing." She remembered what came next: sobbing and a needle as her old life was burned away by intravenous morphine. This time, though, it didn't. Reality itself died as the hologram was snuffed out at the press of a button. Isaac had a couple of tears in his eyes, which he quickly brushed away.

"Who was that?" Curtis casually asked, only the faintest hint of malice in his timbre. He knew perfectly well – _she _needed the reminding.

"Her name's Nicole. She's… the one I'm looking for. My girlfriend. I got this message from her when we shocked into Aegis – one of the only transmissions coming from the ship."

"You think she's still alive? She didn't look great in that vid. And was that the end?" Curtis took a sly step toward Nicole that seemed to shake the floor with how wound-up she was.

"There's a little more… but I don't need to see it. I know how it ends. I saw her."

Such words were cold water on both of them. They turned to each other, his upset and her guilt replaced by overwhelming fear. The two liars would have to puzzle out a way to convince Isaac of his budding insanity without revealing the truth – that she was dead.

"You saw her?" he repeated. Isaac was so enthralled by this "fact" he overlooked the pained expression on the miner's face.

"You think I'm hallucinating, but I'm not. Sure, I heard a couple voices, saw some squiggles in my peripheral vision." The two of them again cringed as he cavalierly divulged his degeneration. "But there's no mistaking Nicole. She popped up on a monitor, said someone had been blocking her RIG signals – probably that Mercer psycho – but she found a way around it for a second. Told me everything would be all right."

No. _No! _She wanted to scream the word and throttle him for being such a dumbass. How did he not understand?! Whatever. She'd tell him when the straits were a little less dire. For now, they had a RIG to find. Both men reinstated their masks, and Isaac placed his left hand on the door's blue hologram while fidgeting the Plasma Cutter with his right.

"I was going to tell you," she whispered as the door opened to conceal her words. Curtis' reply? More silence.

…

Curtis knew his intelligence was subpar. Much to his chagrin, he simply wasn't smart; like most in his society, he was relegated to menial labor. Not that he resented being a miner – he loved it! But he carried no illusions that he could ever aspire to anything more than that. Breaking open rocks was no different conceptually than scrubbing floors or flipping frozen soy-burgers at a fast-food joint. The tools were more advanced and the pay more substantial (though still not great), but that was it.

Still, he never felt like an utter flailing idiot until that moment, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with Nicole as they crouched behind a low table. Isaac slunk behind a barrel or something; couldn't quite tell in the dying light. The lack of vision only heightened his feelings of impotence. They weren't alone. Things crept and skittered in the dark. Really wished this thing had night vision. Without it, Nicole would have to be his eyes… and he wasn't sure he trusted her enough for that.

_I'm a fucking moron! How didn't I realize?! _Nicole might sense his thoughts – depended on how committed she was to mental privacy – but the others couldn't, and that was what mattered. If she wanted to hear him mentally bitch, well, he couldn't stop her. _I should have put it together sooner; no wonder she was so jumpy and demure around him. _Now that he thought back, he vaguely recalled she told him the name "Isaac Clarke" during their final moments together while she still lived. _My fault for forgetting._

"What's the plan?" Isaac whispered; the words beamed straight into his helmet. Nicole also looked at him expectantly. Funny. These were two very smart people – geniuses, even – relying on him for advice and guidance. Would have been flattered if the responsibility didn't crush his lungs.

"Why ask me?" he weakly protested. If they died because of something he said or did… He may have held grudges against these two now (even though Isaac really did nothing to deserve that), but he didn't want that! Why couldn't _they _mantle the obligation?

"You have a knack for improvising," Nicole whispered back. Their caution was unnecessary if things in here were the same as last time. "You underestimate yourself." Ah, so she _did _sense his ineptitude! "Look, I'm not trying to; reading minds is as instinctive for me as walking or breathing is to humans." She paused. "Or ogling women, in your case." This part was spoken softer. "My point is, you're the one with the temperament to pull this off. Me? I'm a long-term planner. We don't have that luxury. You work well off-the-cuff."

The buttering up worked despite his annoyance. "All right," he muttered, surveying the situation as best he could.

They needed to find Mathius' RIG. Rather unusually, he remembered that his corpse still had it on; the people who brought him down were in such a hurry that they didn't bother to strip him. He was certainly a Necromorph by now, mutated by either the Marker's signal or an Infector's tongue. _He might have wandered away. _No, the noise was substantial – most of the bodies remained.

It was a matter of finding the captain, dismembering him and yanking off the remains of his RIG. That meant locating him in the sea of flesh. How could they do that?

_Eyes. _The word popped into his head as he beheld Nicole's four golden orbs reflect what little light remained. A tapetum lucidum, she called it. Latin for… _"dead forms"? Wait, no, that's "Necromorph". _Probably contributed to the varnished, animalistic gaze most of them shared. The point was it let her see in the dark – but its glow let others see _them. _Mercer had all their heads cut off for whatever reason. Maybe to experiment on them, maybe to fuck. Mathius arrived late enough to escape this fate, meaning he was the only one with eyes.

Dozens of Necromorphs stood between them and the target. They took out a good number on their first pass through, but _a lot _of people died in the days before the outbreak… They'd have to use tricks and chicanery. That was the only way.

_Like… _His mind struggled to come up with something. _Uh, got any advice for me, Black Marker? _No response, not that that surprised him. Was it too weak to speak in anything other than his dreams and a few waking moments? Did cosmic dealings with its "brother" leave it helpless? Or did it appreciate the danger he was in and not want to make things "too easy". The point was that there wouldn't be a deus ex machina. Not that there ever seemed to be. _Someone will have to be bait._

He cringed as he thought that, as did Nicole. It was crazy. They might all die, but he saw no other option. They didn't have the ammunition to destroy all of them, and they needed the RIG ASAP. Sighing, he contacted Isaac through audio RIG-Link and let him in on all these thoughts; Nicole already knew them. Something to look forward to once this chapter in the grand saga of death concluded. _I wonder if it'll be a one-way thing or if I'll ever be able to understand her. _The whole concept of telepathy was mind-boggling, though he could do without the Markers' version of it. Even the Black Marker hurt his head when it spoke. Too ancient. Too _big._

"I _would_ volunteer," Isaac began, "but I want to see Nicole again. Can't do that if I'm dead."

Nicole didn't speak, but he knew she thought along similar lines. _Is that telepathy or just intuition? _She wanted to be with him even if she wasn't strong enough to admit her past. Well, that made the choice easy. "I guess I'm up."

…

_This is fucking insane, _Nicole thought as she watched Curtis scamper into the dark. Wouldn't have been able to see at all without the yellow bar on his back (for he was pretty beat-up). _Dark. I wish. _Not to her. She saw every beautiful inch perfectly. The room was a protein jungle; veritable trees of Corruption biomass coated the structural columns with fleshy vines hanging off. A dozen of her brothers and sisters roamed back and forth, all headless. More were around the corners. They "saw" each other perfectly, of course. Indeed, all the meat on the walls and floor were organs they could sense through. To her, it was Heaven. To humans, Hell.

Still, she couldn't afford to be too worried, so fear boiled inside. That'd alert her brothers and sisters, turning this shitshow into a slaughter. The many minds present masked her own, at least: mental camouflage. As he only connected with her and not the hive mind proper, Curtis was clothed from their "sight", too. They were all blind to each other.

That's when she saw what Mathius became. The Slasher limped into sight, head swiveling atop the bloated body. She signaled to Isaac, who in turn technologically whispered to Curtis. She'd ditched the communicator at some point; she was always going to be with him or Isaac, so there was no point. The only thing humans had on her was pockets! _And if our "bond" keeps developing… we won't need technology anymore. _It scared her to let this happen, though it wasn't something she could control.

Their minds comingled whether they wanted them to or not; like a pyrophoric substance that combusted in the air, it could not be stopped. They were too similar. Even if it was a connection just between them, couldn't the Red Marker exploit this somehow?

Curtis switched off the spine-mounted "health bar", rendering him completely blind and helpless. His life depended on her. _I'm a doctor. That's my job. _It was always different with friends and loved ones, though.

Nicole and Isaac, similarly disguised, slunk toward Mathius. His back was to them, and he fortunately stood back from the rest of the herd. Bits of flesh and tatters of fabric they'd hastily scrounged were stuffed into the joints of Isaac's RIG to muffle the creaking. To her amazement, it actually worked. Not well, but enough, even if the suit smelled like the inside of an old latrine afterward. Then they were there, hiding behind one of the plinths. Mathius' thoughts were akin to those of most Necromorphs: hungry.

She raised a claw, which was the signal for Isaac to rely to Curtis that it was time. He sorrowfully nodded and carried out the solemn task. Across the room, Curtis shivered among the vines. _I'm sorry, _she thought towards him on the off chance he understood. _You deserved better._

The axe fell.

"Hey! Come get me, you motherfuckers! Your dead god hasn't killed me yet! Maybe you pieces of shit want to try!" She felt herself crack a jagged smile at his spunk, though that hardly dented the forced apathy under which agony festered.

Her brothers and sisters couldn't hear without ears, but they felt vibrations in the air both from his voice slamming molecules together and the overwhelming aura of blended fear, anger and a hint of desperation. It was a profoundly _human _emotion, and that's what set them off.

The entire room bellowed out of their tracheas and charged, tripping over each other to bring this human into the folds. Shades of confusion were mixed with the normal hunger and zealotry. _How did it remain so long among us? _Mathius roared and readied himself to charge with all the rest.

She seized him before he could. Like a trapdoor spider, she lunged from her burrow and snatched her prey before falling upon them. Mathius barely had time to register surprise, but what shock it was! They didn't easily unnerve. There was just enough time for him to look her in the fact and a faint spark of recognition to cross his broken face before the head came off, courtesy of her claws.

_Traitor! _he internally screamed as he burbled and flailed. Isaac held down his legs, which prevented him from wriggling away. This would have drawn the rest to them were it not for Curtis' ruse. He clambered through the ooze, taking potshots at her siblings while dodging their scythes, swords and acid. She felt his terror, then the agony as bone tore through tendons.

If his health readout was still on, it would have been red. There was too much red. She _saw _red as Mathius' right arm went, flung aside by her angry razors. And she laughed. Her hooks were about to fall upon his left arm when she snapped "awake". Her muscles snapped back like a car's emergency brakes. Slicing it off would sever enough of him to kill! _I don't want that! _Her bloodlust slaked, though it still begged to differ. Why should she not dispatch her abhorrent family? They would never stop dogging them until she and her adopted siblings were dead.

_Please, _Mathius begged. Red was painted over with gray and dark blue. _I want to keep existing. _He begged. That wasn't a common trait for her kind, and the captain certainly wasn't a coward. _Weren't you a doctor? Do oaths mean nothing to you? _Fuck.

She snarled, unfurled a claw and carved out a chunk of his shoulder like a chef carving a turkey for the ludicrously rich big shots who could afford such luxuries. _Like you, I bet. _Mathius' last thoughts were of relief and gratitude before he receded into sleep-like oblivion, his body barely large enough to sustain itself. Not dead, though. _Well, he is, but…_

She helped Isaac to peel the RIG off, disregarding the state of the mangled fabric itself. They only needed the data stored within. After they uploaded it to Kendra, they could bail. Curtis continued to shoot and scream, though the latter became quieter and the former less frequent. Her part here was over. Isaac handled the data, pounding away at a little wrist-mounted module to upload what codes and passwords were held within.

Curtis needed her far more. Bellowing, she vaulted over the cover and lowered her head. Two seconds later, she caught one of her siblings in the back and crushed her against a wall, leaving a hole the size of a Z-Ball through her abdomen before she crumpled like paper. Curtis, who sprawled on the ground, grunted, turned the gun on its side and fired at an approaching Divider (that's the name they agreed on). As they learned, horizontal beam only split them into more dangerous components. Vertically, though, the top three feet or so of its body were reduced to ash, and the remainder skittered away.

She flung him over her shoulder and leapt up, impaling a Leaper through the head with her foot-claws. Another couple slashes and she tore them both free. Curtis clung to her back for dear life. He was terrified, but hope overcame his fear. He trusted her. That would solidify their link.

Isaac fired a few more rounds of plasma at the masses of flesh before bolting from the room. They followed a moment later, Curtis still clinging to her for his life.

**12 Hours Post-Outbreak**

Curtis sat with Isaac at the tram station. Steamy air whistled past his face, the sulfurous odor stinging his eyes. They didn't really water, though; he was dehydrated, which was why he downed some sports drink courtesy of smashing a vending machine open with his boot. The regular drinking water was now filled with tiny bits of Necromorph flesh, and he would take no chances; what if ingesting it turned him into one?

A surge of pain pulsed through his shoulder as the wound burned. The suit tore away there, revealing raw muscle. It didn't seem to have grazed bone, fortunately; otherwise it would have agonized instead of merely distressed. This was the first major injury he'd sustained. Miraculously, most of his wounds were minor and many self-inflicted. His was to be a death by a thousand cuts instead of one massive blow like so many others.

Riding on Nicole's back had been an experience unlike any other. Despite her frail appearance, she was damn strong – just as strong as him in one of the most advanced RIGs in the galaxy! Surprisingly soft, too. At first, he thought it humiliated her, but she seemed to enjoy it.

Speaking of which, Nicole now knelt beside him with a salvaged Med Kit and surgical gloves that she comically shoved over her claw tips; took several tries and layers to not immediately shred them. Seemed she became nimbler with her new appendages. He hoped so, considering she wielded a needle in one hand and a bottle of disinfectant in the other! She'd used some kind of probing device to test the levels of Somatic Gel in his blood and found it dangerously high. Adding more risked a number of horrific side-effects, such as hyper-accelerated cell growth that'd turn his body into a massive tumor. From then on, he'd have to rely on more… _painful _methods.

"It's not far enough down the limb to use a tourniquet, so these stitches will have to do. And make sure to keep drinking lots of fluids, because there's no way I can intubate or IV you." The sight was almost humorous, but he knew Nicole was deadly serious. Her job was the last thing she'd joke about. "And brace yourself, because I couldn't find any painkillers."

That last part made him deflate like a balloon. Still, he'd experienced more pain in the past day than could fit on the Ore Storage Deck. A few pinpricks couldn't be too bad, yet expecting them somehow made the feeling worse.

Isaac turned to them, his eyes ringed and saggy but still alert. He hadn't succumbed to dementia yet. Only a matter of time, though. "Do you need any – "

Static blasted from his holo-screen, static particles quickly assembling into Hammond's head. Always happened at the worst times. Something was different, though. Took Curtis a moment to distinguish the change as a fresh cut across his face. "What happened to you?" Isaac asked. Nicole capitalized on the distraction to begin, splashing stinging antiseptic across the wound and digging in the needle. Both elicited pained grunts, but he gritted his teeth and bore the pain. The smell of rotten eggs from the tunnel mixed with sterilizing liquid was a truly unappetizing vapor.

"A Necromorph wandered into a damaged escape pod just outside the Nest. Tried to finish it off with my knife, but that didn't go well, so I sealed it inside." Smart, as long as the door held. Nicole continued to mend, each successive prick getting milder. "Kendra should be nearly finished sorting data. Let's see how our chances look. The Security Chief's projection of confidence was convincing, Curtis admitted, but it was still a façade. He didn't expect them to make it out of there.

_Neither do I._

Kendra's visage quickly manifested in Hammond's stead, though flashes of the dead appeared between them. McNeill, Sam… Nicole. The Marker mocked him. He might have screamed if he wasn't still gnashing his teeth. _You like it, don't you? _the fake Nicole asked, stroking his cheek while the real one kept sewing. She was beautiful – skin like marble and hair like gold. This wasn't how she really looked, but an idealized version; a fantasy just as soon found in Peng. Somehow, he found the zombie equally attractive. Imagine that. _Did you hear that? Do you know I see "you"? _he "thought" at her as strongly as he could. To his shock, she nodded and continued working.

"Looks like you were right about the Marker. Weird shit started happening the second they unearthed it." She shook her head. "I've got good news and bad news," Kendra said. The ghosts vanished, as did fake Nicole… for the moment. They'd be back. Always were. "Which do you want first?"

"Good," Isaac said, which he had to agree with. They needed all of that they could get. Kendra gasped and adjusted her collar.

"There's another shuttle."

If whiplash was a verb, that's what rocketed through his brain. Nicole in turn staggered from this. Slowly, apprehension bloomed into joy, and he giggled despite the pain. It was another chance! Their very last one.

"It's on the upper levels of the Crew Deck. The 'Executive Shuttle', it's marked as. Something for the captain to use for pleasure cruises." Mathius held out on them again, huh? "Looks like it'll need some pretty maintenance, but it might just get us out of here." Kendra was disillusioned, Hammond looked stoic as ever while Isaac still sat in stunned silence. He, though, was jubilant, leaping to his feet.

"This is fantastic! So what about the repairs? If that's the worst of it, we're going to live."

"That's not the bad news." Curtis' celebration stopped, and he scowled before slumping back down. OK, more problems. Those could be handled. "The Ishimura's engines are offline and our orbit is decaying. I don't know when we'll be pulled into the planet, but it'll be sooner than we can get the shuttle running."

Now he was mad. New problems, he could deal with. This was something he'd already fixed, and he told her so! It felt like smoke poured from his ears and nostrils from both anger and his brain malfunctioning. Nicole cringed, which made him simmer down; any strong emotion he felt might give her a headache.

"You fixed the fuel _line_, yes. But the tank it connected to is empty. The ship's supposed to automatically cycle them once the liquid hydrogen gets low. With everything failing, that didn't happen. You'll have to attach it manually, kick-start the fusion reactor, the centrifuge, all that." Then there was no time to lose. He leapt to his feet again, wincing at the pain in his shoulder.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, Curtis," Isaac walked over and put a hand on his back. That was the friendliest the man had been toward him, "but I'm an engineer who worked on that deck for months. I can handle it."

"Curtis, you're in no shape to fight," Nicole echoed. "I know it's hard, but you have to take it easy for a few hours."

He sighed. "Fine. What else can Ido?"

"There is one other thing," Kendra muttered as her fingers flew. "We need to find out more about the Marker. Pictures, at least, because there's very little here; seemed Mathius didn't want anyone tampering with the 'holy artifact'. According to this, it's somewhere on the outskirts of the Ore Storage Deck." He snorted. It technically was a mineral. "One of the most desolate places aboard; probably moved there to avoid prying eyes and vandals. The work should be light."

His first instinct was to refuse. Not a scrap or shred of information about this evil machine could survive the trip between stars. The Red Marker said its kind could be "found or built", and he didn't trust humanity to _not _make more of these things. It would bring doom to them all.

As he pondered it, though, the reward loomed greater. Obviously, it was a thing of great power. Maybe some part of it could be taken without replicating the whole "making zombies" thing. He couldn't begin to imagine the possibilities – researching psychic powers, new breakthroughs in gene therapy. It could do so much good in the right hands. _What are you thinking? That's what it wants._

If he still thought that when he arrived, he could destroy it. This might be his only chance. Therefore, he accepted the offer.

Isaac and his people bantered a little more while Curtis rested. He barely noticed them or the world in general.

Instead, he focused on one thing: a comforting sensation in his head. Another mind probed his like a plush blanket wrapped around his brain. It developed quickly over the last several minutes – after his dialogue with Nicole and she saved him. Perhaps these events were great enough to spark the process. Wasn't like the Markers' mental beating. Instead, it was soft and gentle. Serene, even. They were cold, but it was warm.

_Is this wrong? _he asked himself. _This relationship, this… bond? _Just because something felt good didn't make it so. Still, they were both sentient, consenting beings. Nicole expressed excitement, even if she rebuffed his romantic interest. That was fine; frankly, he found this much more interesting. Waves of comfort washed over him. That was all he could decipher for now, but it was enough. More than that, this could be a useful tool. Always knowing where the other was and what they wanted would make a formidable duo in combat.

They needed every boost they could get their hands on. Even if morally wrong, it would've been worse to cast aside such a boon. He needed to protect these people, and if pursuing this link with Nicole furthered that aim, not doing so would be irresponsible. _I need them to be safe. They have lives. I don't, really._

A low whistle resounded up the tunnel. The tram approached.

Curtis sunk into the plush bench, reveling in the feeling, as did Nicole. She produced a noise from next to him unlike anything he'd heard from a Necromorph. Almost like… purring. She was utterly happy, despite the befuddled looks Isaac shot them both as he wrapped up the call.

"All right, stay safe, everyone. Hammond out."

_When will you tell him? _Curtis thought at her, enunciating each word in his brain.

She turned to him and mouthed, "Soon."

The tram pulled in, leaving him to bask in this feeling even as another crisis threatened their existence. _It's nice. Soft. Warm…_


	18. Out of Luck

**12 Hours, 15 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

What analogy best described the situation? Mice in a maze? Ants in an ant farm? That's what Curtis wondered as he rested in the antipodal cold of the dim tram car and the warm folds of Nicole's mind.

"_Warm folds", huh? I am so fucked. _Unintentionally intimate language aside, it was a superbly blissful sensation. It felt like a pleasant sauna for the soul. Then again, who needed sex? They were going to end up in each other's heads. Hard to get more personal than that. He glanced over at Nicole, though she paid him no mind. This would be a long ride with what he now knew about her and Isaac… not to mention that Engineering and Ore Storage were right before Medical on the circuit, so they had to loop back around.

He wasn't upset about that, though. Gave him time to "experiment". Science became more interesting to him since the dead began rising, but that was nothing compared to the prospect of telepathy! Was that scientific or mystical, he wondered. Hard to discount magic in these peculiar hours. Why not practice his wizarding skills?

_Hey, Nicole? Do you "mind" if I try some things out? _She snorted in annoyance at the pun. Isaac was fast asleep on a bench, a fate that would've appealed to Curtis if the most incredible thing in the universe didn't stare him in the face! Regardless, she nodded.

_How do you feel right now? _He closed his eyes, prepared for words to rip into his head. What he received wasn't a phrase or sentence, though. It was a second-hand impression, one he didn't quite feel, though he knew someone else did. It was kind of like watching a live stream of someone's brain; what he felt was not his own, but it was still valid and real. The sensation was… like runny LemonGun candy after sitting in light for too long, mixed with the color green. That sounded insane, but it made perfect sense.

_Does that mean you're nervous? _Again, she nodded

_Holy shit. It works! _He giggled in childlike joy. The galaxy was filled with incredible technology and hummed with countless people. Humanity could destroy entire planets! Still, it stagnated and failed: resource shortages and riots marred EarthGov's self-proclaimed utopia. This was something new and incredible! He racked his mind for something else to ask.

_What's two plus two? _Gibberish arced across their neophyte link. There may have been words buried within, but he couldn't discern them. Nicole paused and blinked before the feelings stopped. Then something else came – slowly and steady pulses of emotion like the ocean tides. One. Two. Three. Four.

Nicole smiled, and he nearly squealed in excitement. That was something he hadn't done since he was a kid in an arcade! This was just so cool! He still shivered but decided he'd had enough for the time being; there'd be time to practice later, and his head began to ache (more than it usually did, anyway). Didn't want to burst a blood vessel or have a stroke. Despite his excitement at both the prospect of essentially having a superpower and being able to better survive this, straining himself might prove dangerous.

"Do you see why I like this form so much now?" Nicole whispered to him. He nodded. No matter what he thought of the Necromorphs, he envied this beautiful ability, this hive mind. He'd never experienced it as they did. That was fine with him. A thousand extra voices would melt his brain; one was sufficient. It also gave him perspective on why she wouldn't kill her siblings; she'd already died a hundred deaths as Curtis tore through them. Not that he'd stop, but it made him truly conceive of her bravery.

He rested his mind a while, drifting into the cold metal world he called home. Stations flew by, all nearly identical except the words adorning the ground. Crew Deck. Bridge. Mining. Flight. They were like episodes in a television show he'd seen over and over again. Engineering was next up. Most things remained constant, such as the thrumming gondola whizzing along the magnetic tracks and distant roars of prowling undead. Some things changed – Nicole, for instance.

Her body shivered and vibrated throughout the journey, reaching its peak once they departed from the Flight Deck. The cause was plain to him, but he tried to tap into her mind one more time. More like bludgeoning in with a crowbar. Hopefully that'd improve naturally. The bleak feelings projecting from her matched the forlorn expression chiseled into her face. She reminded him of a gargoyle mantling an ancient structure: ferocious yet profoundly sad. Beautiful, too.

_You know you have to tell him. _Something like a whimper returned to him, and he knew she agreed. Time to put everything on the line. Lungs instinctually sucking in air, she rotated to her boyfriend.

…

Nicole was scared. That alone smashed the situation's direness into her face. She wasn't scared easily in either of her lives. Some scenarios haunted her, such as being hated by her family or Curtis dying. However, those possibilities embodied dread for only one person. This was a terror that would shake them all if fully realized. Not quite as dire in consequences but wider in scope. Still, Curtis was right. Wisdom penetrated where intelligence could not.

_Him being wise? _The whole world turned upside-down. She couldn't deny it, though. He possessed street-smarts only a rough-and-tumble upbringing provided. She and Isaac, while not by any means sheltered, lived relatively privileged lives. Her boyfriend had grit but not necessarily the insight to use it – when to fight and when to flee. Curtis was the opposite; he had only a hammer, so everything looked like a nail.

The trolley lurched and began to slow. What remained of her heart shrank. Isaac would never forgive her if she held out longer. Neither would she.

"Hey, Isaac," she whispered, gently shaking him awake. "Your station's almost here."

He lurched awake, almost tripping over his feet. "Oh. Thank you."

A genuine smile crossed his face. Why couldn't she cry? Curtis knew her pain and felt bad himself, causing a vicious cycle. Feedback loops were inherent dangers of such a bond – you could become mired in negativity. That was less of a concern with thousands of minds and emotions drifting around. Tended to even out. A two-mind system was cold and quiet, though to him it was the epitome of warmth. Still, it was nice to commune with a mind who genuinely cared for her because of who she was! She loved her brothers and sisters because they were family. He loved her regardless. That seemed greater.

"Before you leave, I need to tell you something." Her own voice trailed into nothingness, and a thousand-yard stare overtook her. Isaac seemed miles away though he stood right in front of her. Curtis gave a thumbs-up.

"Uh, OK." The man fidgeted, still not totally comfortable being around her. The tram pulled into the station.

"I'm Nicole," she whispered. Her vocal cords were so thin and taut that the words sounded like they were hissed through a straw.

"What?"

"I – I'm Nicole," she stammered. His eyes went wide.

Her hope died.

"You're lying," he whispered, shivering in his RIG. "I saw her. She's alive, not an undead monster! I'm going to find her." Bravado couldn't mask his doubts.

"Think, Isaac!" she pleaded, dropping to her knees. The motion was as much catharsis for her as it was to express her complete and utter heartbreak. She still craved his friendship even if he wouldn't have her as a lover. "Think about the way I've acted, what I said! I look different, but I'm still the same person! What you saw was the Marker trying to use you." She desperately hoped this last part was true, that she wasn't merely a parasite using Nicole's memories to pilot her rotting carcass. "I still love you!"

She didn't know what to expect, but a slap in the face wasn't it.

It took a moment to process the sting. It didn't hurt; even with the RIG's power behind it, Isaac's arm was flaccid as a wet noodle. Shock made his muscle tone plummet. Even if not, the bony plating on her face and mandibles let her weather the hit without so much as a fang popping loose. Curtis could hit much harder.

But it hurt more than anything she'd ever known. The gesture knocked her over, and she contracted into a little ball. Despite being over six feet tall, the cartilage and bone that held her together was surprisingly malleable, one of the reasons she could fit through such small spaces. Also good at absorbing the impact of bullets, which was one reason non-traditional weapons worked so much better against them. A second later, she'd gone from being taller than him to a sphere of compressed tissue, her spindly arms wrapped around lanky legs and her head buried in the center. She could fit into a laundry basket.

"Hey!" Curtis shouted. She looked through the translucent flesh of her arm to see the outline of a man standing tall, Line Gun in his hands. "Hit her head again, and _yours _will roll."

"Curtis, calm down," she rasped, grateful that the voice she produced in agony wasn't too different than her normal intonation. Being muffled by her own body helped. "He needs time to process this." Peeking out to her boyfriend, she said, "We were going to get married."

"Not anymore." His eyes closed, milking rivulets of tears as the helmet came up. The last glimpse of her lover's face she'd ever see was a mask of pain and sorrow. While she couldn't grasp his mind as she did Curtis', the expression and words made her feel like she'd been impaled. "You seem to enjoy the 'new you'. Do you like this more than being human?"

The question was loaded; he wanted her to choose between him and her entire being, not that anything could be done about it. Still, she wouldn't lie to him. "I do."

The tram was about to depart. Without even a sigh, Isaac clinked off and stood dazed on the platform. They sped off moments later, but right before the door closed, he collapsed and began sobbing. God, she wished she could. Instead, she flopped over on her side and moaned. She thought it would be ablution for her, but nothing came! She groaned and bellowed like a beached whale until she was somehow sick despite a stomach. _Why can't I cry?_

Tear ducts were good for keeping the eyes clean, but her natural secretions were even better. No need for them, anymore, so away they went. Biological perfection was a fickle thing. _I don't want to be perfect, though! I want to mourn! _She found herself covetous of a thing she used to have and never would again.

"I'm so sorry that happened, Nicole, but you did everything you could." She wanted to throttle Curtis for ruining her life! He planned for this to happen so he could swoop in and "win" her! His suggestion tore Isaac from her forever. That's what her rage said. His words were genuine, though; he ached as she did for her loss. Feelings could be masked but not faked. He meant every word.

He helped her up. At first, she expected her to come in for a hug, but he refrained. The old Curtis would've been all over her if he was into spiky four-eyed insect-dinosaur zombies. That development was also new. Some guilt still roiled within about that affection, but it mostly fizzled out.

She sat for a while, wallowing, while Curtis tried to think of something to say. She heard everything – _"Maybe you should…", no that wouldn't work. "Is there any way I can help?" Don't make it all about you, Curtis. _That was another pitfall of such a link; no filter existed. If he lived long enough, he might learn how to "disconnect" from her, but they were stuck in each other's heads until then. She hoped he would; humans were social creatures (even if modern society suffocated geniality), but few could stay sane with another voice in their heads for their whole lives.

It wasn't until they reached Hydroponics that Curtis devised a suggestion which he felt strong enough to share of his own volition. He learned forward in his seat.

"Could you form a 'link' with Isaac like you did with me? That might make him understand you," he suggested. A good idea, but it probably wouldn't work.

"I think not. A bond such as ours requires mutual trust and respect. He'll never have either for me again. There may be other factors: genetics, personality, brain structure. What we have is rare." She couldn't comprehend how far her species reached in space and time, but she caught faint notions from distant suns from hundreds of millions of years back, at least. She sorted through echoes and corrupted memories marred by eternal rot, seeing everything and nothing. This sort of relationship occasionally evolved, but _rarely_. One-in-a-billion, at most. Still, that was a non-trivial number compared to the trillions of minds in their astral network.

How many Necromorphs and how many mortals had become friends? How many were _more?_ How many failed or succumbed to the things they struggled against?

_So that's – I'm – why humanity never found aliens. That's why the universe is dead space._

"Dead… space?" Curtis repeated, clutching his head. Nicole's mind was wrenched from dismal dreams and into genuine joy.

_Curtis! Can you understand me? _No response other than a groan this time, only exacerbated as the car hit a bump. The probably wouldn't have been able to move at all without the magnetic rail.

"Did you hear what I said?" she repeated in spoken English.

"Um, something about 'dead space' and why we're alone in the universe. It was just for a second." She'd take it. Honestly, this progressed faster than she expected it to. The fact he comprehended sentences an hour after their minds joined astonished her, but maybe it shouldn't have, considering this happened at all. Curtis was more like a Necromorph than he knew – his drive, stubbornness and devotion to something (saving people versus killing them) might have made him naturally predisposed to such a connection.

The words shook him, so she did her best to project warm feelings, the same kind she received from him. While the dangers of such a psychic shackle were great, the benefits made up for it. Soon, they were wrapped together in a mental blanket, good feelings flowing across their link and reinforcing each other.

They stayed like that as long as they could, comforting each other with thoughts instead of words.

**12 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Curtis drifted in an odd funk as he and Nicole disembarked. On one hand, it was good this ticking timebomb had been defused. On the other, he felt like shit for getting his friend physically and emotionally hurt. At least there was a slim hope for reconciliation there. The fact Isaac slapped her made his stomach turn, but he did the same! Tensions would run high until they got the Hell out.

The epiphany that the galaxy – maybe the whole universe – was long ago devoured by Necromorphs didn't help. It made sense; why else had his species never found ever a single bacteria or virus anywhere other than Earth? Entire species fought against this threat and all lost. What chance did humanity have, bound in its own vice and decadence? Every act of resistance he and Nicole could do already happened, and they obviously hadn't worked.

The Black Marker must have always been on their side, he realized. That was the only reason he'd ever been born. If it wanted to destroy them, it would have 300 years ago. Instead, it rested at the bottom of the ocean, observing and maybe waiting. _For me? _He didn't know. However, he was certain the Age of Man rapidly approached its end. The last few grains of sand dripped through the hourglass. The Red Marker was there. They found it or it found them, and the rest couldn't be far behind.

He shook his head to drive the bad thoughts away. Nicole was there – the fake Nicole, anyway. She usually was now, though she seemed a little more lethargic of late. He turned away from "her" as the tram blasted away.

"We're finally here," he said. "This is where we really hit things off. I knew we'd be back somehow." This made a rollicking travelogue if nothing else. He visited every single deck during this infection except Hydroponics, and he fully expected to check that one off the list. "What do you think we'll find?"

Nicole shrugged. "I don't know. The Red God is an enigma. Expect anything." Not a comforting assessment, but he took it to heart.

They strutted in as they usually did, with Nicole psychically searching for her brethren and Curtis wielding his Line Gun. The rent in his shoulder made it tough to hold, but he bore it, shifting more of the weight to his undamaged arm. This resulted in it being diagonal, but whatever. It'd chop of limbs regardless of the angle. Nothing so far, though. Even seemed to be less Corruption than usual. By now, most of the ship was coated in veritable tracts, enough to grow gardens of fibrous vines and collagen tendrils. Life, but not as he knew it.

Here, it grew sparser, the equivalent of a desert or savannah. Nicole grunted, and pain radiated from her as searing heat. Bad feelings were too cold or too hot while good vibes existed as liquid warmth or pleasant cool. It was a Goldilocks dichotomy, one even a human understood. "The Red God is near."

He shivered from the inside out. They were here to take samples and readings, but what would become of them? Say they all got out. Company man that he was, Hammond would have them sent to the CEC. The fact they authorized an illegal mining expedition to a quarantined system and everyone died reeked of a once-in-a-century scandal, but nothing would become of it. Like all megacorps, bribing EarthGov got them off the hook. By handing their Marker data over, perhaps.

That'd be the end. The government would blot out the sky with these things, maybe as a middle finger to Unitology or perhaps for the infinite energy these things seemingly promised. Then they'd all die. If a single Marker could do all this, thousands more, in addition to the millions that supposedly already existed, meant the Necros had already won. Humanity would be exterminated in less than a day.

So he'd lie and say they couldn't detect anything. And maybe, just maybe, he'd find some way to destroy it, though he expected difficulty. From what he'd heard, the thing was hard as diamond and had the tensile strength of titanium. Such natural armor would stand up to anything short of high explosives, and there was no way any were aboard except small caches in Mining. Even if he made a dent, this was technology beyond human comprehension. It might still work when shattered into a thousand pieces. Nicole sensed his doubts and put a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll stop it, Curtis. Together." God, he hoped so.

A couple more desolate hallways later and a subtle throbbing began in his head, peaking right above the constant migraines he always experienced now. It became worse as they trudged through halls and past storage rooms, spiraling ever closer to the Marker which his friend tracked like a bloodhound.

A couple minutes in, his RIG-Link crackled, making him jump out of his skin. He should really turn that off!

"I refueled the engines." Just audio; Isaac didn't want to look at them. Difficult to tell with the thickening static, but it sounded like he'd been crying. "Moving to activate the centrifuge." Before they could ask anything, he was gone. They looked at each other before continuing the hunt. Melancholy waves seeped through the widening cracks in his psyche. These energies were like the dew on socks hung out to dry overnight.

"Your brain will adjust," Nicole assured him with a soft pat on the hip. "My professional opinion is that you're experiencing synesthesia – a condition where the senses are muddled and meld together. Our link must be reshaping your gray matter." That… was kind of horrifying.

Nicole paused to stare at the floor before craning her head up slightly, allowing him to see only her two upper eyes. Made her look just slightly more human. "Curtis, we're treading untested ground, and there's no going back. I don't know what challenges you'll face, but I'll help you every step of the way." He knew she was being honest in a way no other human ever could. That gave him the confidence to crack a smile despite his fear.

"Thanks, _doc_," he playfully replied. The lack of Necromorphs had him in a surprisingly good mood. "I'll let you know if I ever need a prescription."

"You know, I'm technically operating without a license; those get revoked when you die." That last sentence disturbed her after she said it, so they silently pressed on.

Eventually, they reached a wide door, which was designated as the main storage area by the holo-sign above. Ore Storage was really the catch-all deck – everything that wouldn't fit elsewhere was crammed into it. The door slowly squeaked open, exacerbating his head pain. Spots danced in his vision before they dissolved, revealing a characteristically dark room, illuminated by swaying red lights far above. Bulky shapes stood in the half-light: containers. One of them held the Marker.

He expected the room to be chockfull of Necromorphs after the previous emptiness. Wouldn't the Marker want a fitting entourage? Clearly that assumption was born of anthropocentricity, for he hadn't seen a chamber in hours more desolate of flesh. Even the small Corruption fields vanished, leaving something sterile. The unsullied white and chrome running red appeared alien now.

_Organic hives are my new normal? Damn it. _He hated architecture.

An ominous aura pervaded the massive cavern, which was stacked with crates made of synthetic wood and plastic. Part of that was the lack of machinery here; not much was needed in a storage room besides the subsurface gravity generators. From here, he could easily distinguish the disquieting lack of engine noises. _We're counting on you, Isaac. _That was probably the _wrong _person to pin his hopes on after what happened on the tram and subsequent message.

It wasn't just physical. Static charge built in his brain, warping the fledgling link between him and Nicole. The Marker's proximity made his head pound. For his friend, it was worse. He expected her to become stronger, but it must have been too much to handle. Every cell in her body was a receptor for the Marker signal. Such overload felt akin to being dunked in acid. Even a creature who didn't experience pain the same way as a human ached.

He should know – he felt the barest whisper of that agony. The "bond" was still weak and now distorted, but brief flashes of excruciation blipped through. Crushed chili peppers were shoved into every orifice. _God, this syne-whatever sucks! _It made him cringe, yet Nicole still dragged herself along, gritting her teeth.

His nose dripped blood (as Nicole's would have if she still possessed a nose… or blood), and he took another swig from a bottle of sports drink in one of his many pockets. _Stay hydrated, she said. _He never cared for the stuff – if he saw a SUN cola machine, he'd certainly break in. _Or maybe I'll shell out a few credits; I love how the automated claw grabs cans and drops them._

Footsteps echoed around the massive chamber, persisting long after they should. Stepping on a bit of broken glass helped dent the silence, but nothing much happened. Not until he saw it.

Nicole actually did first. She stopped dead in her tracks and pointed an enormous talon forward like a zombie. _Wait, she is one. _The more time he spent with her, the less dead she seemed. He wasn't sure whether she'd ever be human to him, but maybe she didn't need to be. She wouldn't trade the quirks and challenges of being a Necromorph for anything, he knew; who was he to disrespect that opinion?

It was unmistakable, standing alone in the center of the room. Red within red. Reminded him of the system's suns or the surface of Mars. That wasn't what awed him, though. Reality distorted and tore itself apart in its presence. Like the atmospheric shimmer over a flame, spacetime churned around the monolith with a green-blue tint – the same shade that its runes glowed. They were seafoam fire.

"I told you it is a god. It warps reality by simply existing." He wanted to believe the Marker performed all its incredible, monstrous miracles via science alone. Despite not knowing a lick about how the physics of resurrecting the dead worked, there couldn't have been anything mystical about it. It may have been powerful, but in no way divine. Right? His telepathy begged to differ. And now that he saw it for himself…

He saw the Marker before, but it was through a glass, darkly. Now the veil had been pulled away, dissolved by its power. The distortion and teal coloring made him realize what this was. Somehow, the Marker operated like a shockpoint drive, taking matter or energy from somewhere and funneling it here. Nothing visible poured out, so it must have been the latter.

The runes glowed subtly teal, the color of shockspace, like the ones on the Black Marker in some of his visions. He thought that aspect merely a visual cue, but apparently not. They must have been the mechanism through which the obelisk's power was projected.

It tried to shove him away as he trudged closer. No physical struggle took place, fortunately; it didn't sprout arms and try to smack him away. His mind, however, felt like it was being sprayed with a sandblaster. A million specks of dust skimmed across the surface of his conscious, needles pricking at it. Didn't hurt, per se, but it was transcendently unpleasant. The best analogy he could devise was the sensation of something stuck in his eye… but in his brain instead. Each step added another hunk of lead to his legs.

He only overcame it because of Nicole's help. Though distorted by the Marker, their bond became stronger in its presence, though not more advanced. He supposed that made sense – its energy was what sustained her, so her psychic abilities must have been amplified, as well.

Nicole, however, hit a wall. There was a point about 20 feet from the Marker where she keeled over. No warning or anything; she collapsed, and her mind circled the drain, distilling into pure agony. "Nicole!" he shouted, hobbling over to her groaning form.

He registered gratitude as he picked her up and carried her a dozen feet away, propping her up against a shipping container. "Stay here, all right?"

"C-Curtis," she whispered with both her mind and her mouth, "be careful." He rested one hand on her outstretched arm and another on her waist. It was dumb, but he tried to magically cure her like a character in a fucking fantasy movie or one of those charlatanic faith healers. Didn't work, but it was worth a shot after all the other fantastical things that'd happened.

"I actually do feel a little better since you made the effort," she weakly coughed before falling asleep. One moment, her consciousness bombarded his own with sensations. The next, it slowed and fell, petering into a steady drone. _Drone, huh? Sounds about right. _Necromorphs must have slept differently, for he'd heard human brain patterns fluctuated rapidly. This was a steady thrum, instead. More like she'd lapsed into a "power saving" mode like some electronics with low battery life. Maybe that'd stop the Marker from damaging her anymore.

He rose, his head still pounding and threatening to tear itself in half. He pounded up to the menhir, which quadrupled as his vision sloshed about. Many Markers splintered through his gaze, the haze of tears making the whole thing a macabre mirage. Drunkenly, he pulled up some basic energy-reading software from his RIG, the same thing he'd used to pinpoint radioactive materials during his first adventure with Nicole. The results appeared on his holo-screen.

Energy of every kind poured from it, spiking and dipping without pattern, at least not that he could see. With the shockpoint field, it seemed the Marker didn't produce this radiation itself – it was brought directly from whatever force controlled it, ricocheted across the galaxy. Supposedly inert before. Now the mask was off. The Marker no longer feared its secret being out – that it lived. May not have eaten or breathed, but it lived.

_ **YOU MADE IT. CONGRATULATIONS.** _

Curtis practically felt his brain cells pop. It probably couldn't make him hemorrhage or have a stroke, but it still hurt like Hell. The pain in his shoulder also flared, and blood poured from his nostrils anew.

_ **MY MASTERS LIE IN THE DEATH OF SLEEP AND THE SLEEP OF DEATH, BUT THEY DREAM OF YOU. THEY SEE YOUR STRUGGLE THROUGH ME. AND THEY LAUGH.** _

Distant roars that might have passed for laughter among Necromorphs rattled his head. He remembered when Nicole chuckled. While not exactly angelic, it was more pleasant than this. The walls closed in on him as it warped his mind. Nicole was there. They all were, asking him why he let them die. Sam was especially bad with the bony blades buried in his stomach. He didn't hear their words; their thoughts were enough, and they made him want to rip –

_Not… real, _Nicole reminded him through her coma, making the images shimmer like the illusions they were. Gave him just enough strength to pull himself free, aided by a couple hits to the face. One of them didn't quite break his nose, but made it bleed even more heavily. The bottom half of his face was cherry-red.

"I'm going to destroy you," he said, sounding pathetic even to himself.

_ **TRY.** _

With a scream, Curtis tore the Line Gun from his back and fired a shot. As he expected, it impacted the surface without leaving so much as a scorch mark. It egged him on, but he snarled and replaced the patched-up tool. No point wasting ammo. The illusions returned.

_ **I THOUGHT NOT. NOW RUN ALONG.** _

Curtis retracted his helmet and spat on the monolith. Would have punched it, but the impact might have broken his hands. "Nicole" put a cold hand on his shoulder.

_Leave, Curtis. You'll lose._

_ **YOU KNOW, I'D ALMOST PREFER IF YOU ESCAPED. YOUR MIND WILL SPREAD MY GLORY FASTER AND FARTHER. IT MAKES NO DIFFERNECE, THOUGH; YOUR SPECIES WILL BE CONSUMED. THE TIME MATTERS NOT, FOR WE ARE ETERNAL.** _

Again, he was inclined to believe it despite his swirling doubts. The Black Marker supposedly arrived on Earth 66 million years ago in the asteroid that wiped out the dinosaurs. Or maybe it _was _the asteroid. Huh. He now realized his species only evolved because the monolith obliterated the apex species and most other life on Earth. He supposed he was grateful for that. And if they cleared the way for humanity to exist… He gulped and shivered. They really were gods, at least in a sense. Without that moment of intervention, he wouldn't exist.

_See? You fight against insurmountable odds, _Nicole's facsimile declared. He reached to the real one for strength, but he found none.

_ **OH, WE ARE GODS IN MORE THAN THAT. MY BROTHER MAY SAY OTHERWISE, BUT WE OWN YOU. NOW WE ARE MERELY RECLAIMING OUR PROPERTY.** _

It took everything within him to not scream. This thing sensed his hatred, but he refused to vocalize it. "We won't be your slaves."

_No, but your bodies will be. _Her voice grew angrier, her grip colder and tighter. He howled as she worked two fingers into his exposed wound, almost poking the bone.

_ **TRULY? YOU ARE ALREADY CHATTEL TO CORPORATIONS AND PETTY PLEASURES. YOUR FATE IS NOT AS THRALLS, BUT FOOD. YOUR FLESH WILL BE FODDER FOR BEINGS OF MEAT AND STONE.** _

Again, he couldn't disagree, yet he refused to concede that something so malevolent might have the solution for the human condition. Being dead didn't count. _Meat and stone? _Must have referred to whatever commanded the Markers and their puppets from the depths of space. A Necromorph/Marker hybrid, perhaps?

This was pointless! He may not have been in mortal danger around the Marker, but it knew how to push his buttons! The likeness of Nicole was a truly heinous highlight. How ironic that a rock inflamed him more than any human! His antipathy was unequaled and unshaken by time. He had the results he needed and would probably delete them on the way back, if only to flip this thing the bird.

_ **NOW GO. ENJOY WHAT LITTLE TIME YOU HAVE LEFT WITH YOUR LOVER. THOUGH IF YOU CHOOSE TO ENGAGE IN INTERCOURSE, REMEMBER I WILL BE ABLE TO FEEL THE PENETRATION.** _

That made him snap.

"Fuck you, you ugly statue! You look like something an old lady has in her front yard! I've seen pebbles more impressive!" Curtis wasn't the best at dishing out insults to people, let alone a rock, but he felt like he'd whipped up some pretty good zingers. Didn't temper his temper. Auras smashed together and pulled apart like tectonic plates, crushing him between them. The Marker seemed more vexed than amused by his insults, which he noted as the most minor of victories. Still enraged, he turned back to Nicole so they could leave.

And the second he did, she tackled him. He fell back against the Marker, which smashed him with something like an electric shock. That was nothing compared to the sheer terror in his gut. Nicole was atop him, nothing like he'd ever seen her before.

She looked very nearly human, but what kind of human had sharp teeth and massive claws?! Other than those, her piercing yellow eyes and the blood she was soaked in, she looked like alive. Must have been a fusion of her two forms. "Nicole," he gasped. "She" was obviously fake. Why, then, could he see and hear her?!

She leaned in, and he smelled her rotting breath through the helmet.

_You let me die,_ she growled, putting a razor-sharp claw to his forehead. _Abandoned me, left me scared and alone. I'll never forgive you._

"I didn't want this happen," he pleaded. "You have to believe me!"

_Yet you're trying to tear me from the man I love? I think you planned this, you corpse-fucking freak._ The words were bullshit, but they pressed all the right buttons. This thing played him like a fiddle. Then it struck with a scream. Curtis fought for his life as it grappled him, slashing his face with massive talons. Reminded him of a harpy of legend, actually. That made him… Achilles? King Arthur? Anansi? He knew shit about mythology!

"You're not real! How are you doing this?!" he screamed, beating the monster back.

"Maybe I'm more real than you think!" He screamed again, this time in terror. Could have sworn he heard it with his ears instead of his mind. "Surrender! Let me make you whole!" They traded a few more blows, but she was stronger and faster and he was nearly spent. Her golden eyes flashed; she knew he was going to die. For a moment, his resolve cracked, and he almost considered surrendering. What difference could he make?

What broke him out was a cry from Nicole – the _real _Nicole. It was one of encouragement and horror. Something was wrong. _No shit! _She raised her claws for the killing blow while Curtis readied his own – three words powerful enough for the whole ship to hear.

"YOU! AREN'T! REAL!"

And she wasn't. He blinked, and she disappeared. His arms fell to the side as he sucked in air, and the Line Gun clanged across the metal floor. He must have unconsciously prepared to blow his brains out. Didn't surprise him.

He turned his head to Nicole, but she wasn't there. He blinked his dry eyes and shook his head, but reality remained the same. Well, hard to qualify now.

"N-Nicole?" he choked out while the obelisk "laughed". Gasping, he got to his hands and knees to crawl the distance, for he sure as Hell couldn't walk. What felt like hours passed, but he finally arrived, finding a couple splotches of the viscous slime that coated her exposed muscle and bone but no other sign of her. He flopped into a shadow, wheezing.

He closed his eyes and tried to let the pain, anger, fear and sadness drain away. All he wanted to do was sleep. So tired… it would never end. But he was safe here, at least for a little while. The dark red room, the Marker's court, was a fitting place to sleep forever.

_**Get up, **_said the Black Marker, for once not an explosive shell in his brain. It whispered as softly as it could, which he appreciated. Still, no amount of prodding would get him to leave. He couldn't move another inch! _**You will find her. What you have is more powerful than anything. **_Such platitudes would have made him groan if they came from anyone or anything else. _**It is no banality; your connection, your "Bond", as you call it, transcends space and time.**_

He sat up as he pondered the words. Didn't fully trust it, yet what choice did he have? It and Nicole were the only entities that kept him afloat. _**Your mistrust is understandable, but I have only the best intentions for your species. **_Uh huh. He'd see about that.

Curtis closed his eyes, ignoring the whispers all around him. _Nicole, I'm going to find you. _Wind blew him in the right direction. His brain was a compass, spinning in his head until the needle locked north. His eyes flew open. He knew where to go.

Sensations of confusion from Nicole were rain on the morass of his mind. _Thank you, _he thought to the Marker; its presence slowly faded. More hands-off than its "brother". Weakness or lack of power, maybe? _Nicole, if you can hear me, send two pulses of warmth. _Took a moment, but successive sparks of heat warmed his psyche. He held onto them for as long as he could. _I'm coming. _More warmth enveloped his mind like a comforter, and he felt the edges of his mouth tug into a smile.

He hauled himself up and paced through fields of crates and containers, heaving a silent sigh. The Red Marker's presence still hung heavy even though he left it behind. A few more irregular smears popped up as tendrils of thought guided him. They looked like blood in the crimson light, and their streaked shapes (not her footprints) suggested Nicole was dragged by another party. No signs of struggle, though – no claw marks or dents to be found. She must have remained unconscious a while.

Eventually, he reached the edge of the storage room and searched around for a door, which he quickly found. His head thrummed with nervous energy from beyond. He couldn't tell whether Nicole was in immediate danger or merely apprehensive, but his pace quickened either way. Still, it was more a speed walk; he couldn't muster the strength to run with the ache in his legs. Only a sharp pang of terror or a zombie leaping from a vent could coax him into a sprint. _Or that monster._

More slime on the dull, corrugated metal, along with something else. He only realized what when he came to a small grate with a raging river underneath, similar to the one he and Nicole fell through when they first met. The dirty water splashed nearby held human footprints. He should've made the connection before. Why would another Necromorph drag Nicole away instead of killing her on the spot? But if it was human, that meant –

"Mercer!" Curtis shouted while breaking into a run. Neither of the aforementioned conditions happened, but he was more terrified than either would have made him! He'd rip the man's head off if he put a finger on her! Sounds came from behind a door ahead. _I'm almost there! _He put his hand on the hologram and lunged through, fully prepared to cave Mercer's skull in.

Wasn't him, though. It was Kyne.

He hadn't seen the rotund scientist since he killed the captain and ran. Though that only happened 10 hours or so ago, that might as well have been another life. Looked like he'd aged as much, too. Clumps of hair had fallen out or were ripped. Bruises and cuts covered the parts of his body not concealed by his jumpsuit-like RIG, which was drenched in sweat.

"S-stay back! I'll kill you!" he shouted, clutching a comically small scalpel. The only reason he still lived was because he sought safety near the Marker. Unfortunately, it drove him even madder than he'd normally be. Given what Curtis just experienced, it was miraculous he was still alive! Red-ringed eyes bulged out of Kyne's head. When was the last time he slept? Curtis retracted his helmet. Though the initial whirring sound made the doctor jump, he calmed down a little after seeing a human face for the first time in an age.

"Dr. Kyne, it's me, Curtis. Do you remember? We know each other."

Recognition sparked in his eyes, and his red, pasty face went as pale as if he'd seen a ghost, which was in a sense true.

"Mr. Mason, it's a pleasure to see you again," the man gasped while heartily shaking his hand. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead, and Curtis wasn't sure whether to be glad or apprehensive. On one hand, finding someone who wasn't wholly evil in this nightmare fortified his resolve. On the other, Kyne seemed profoundly unwell. He was obviously insane when he killed Mathius and blamed his dead wife. How much worse was he now?

_I have to test him, _Curtis thought. What could he really _do, _though? Drag him around the zombie-infested ship? "Likewise. Um, how's Amelia doing?" Anger dashed across his face, though it was quickly sucked away by jittering chaos.

"She's fine. Stepped out for a moment, but she'll be back soon. I can hear her talking to me." Of course he could. Just like "Nicole" still talked to him. Totally normal.

"And are you doing all right?"

"Yes, the Marker is keeping me safe. Quite safe!" His knees buckled as he said this; he clutched his head to deal with a massive migraine. Curtis felt the dull ache at the back of his skull, as well. Kyne must have gotten it worse because he'd spent so much time here. "Thinks it can break me, but it can't! Amelia's helping me, and she's come up with a plan to stop it. All we have to do is take it to the surface of Aegis VII."

Curtis didn't buy it for a second. The signal was powerful enough to reach the planet from the Ishimura, so the reverse must have been true; moving it there wouldn't solve the problem. Besides, why would a puppet of the Marker work against its own interests?

_ **THA… …NCORRE…** _

The Black Marker's "voice" came through rough and patchy. It was like when it tried to communicate while he was in Lexine's vicinity. The Red Marker's signals must have interfered with it in similar ways to Lexine's psychic powers. God, that was so weird to say, but then again, he had similar abilities now.

_ **MY BROT… …ILL BE SAF… …ON THE PLANET. NOW… …EING LOST TO SPACE.** _

Regardless, he comprehended the gist of the message, and it was as he suspected. Sounded like the Red Marker, despite its bravado, recognized its dicey situation. It should've waited on the whole "reanimate the dead" plan until it got back to Earth, but it was _hungry _and needed to be made whole as quickly as possible. However, it had no exit plan aside from being picked up by the USM, which was probably still on the way. Larger military ships would take longer to shock in than the shuttle sized Kellion.

Until then, constant system failures and hang-ups left the Ishimura on the brink of falling into Aegis VII. It could probably survive the impact; the Black Marker had been able to. The continent-sized chunk of rock still attached to the ship's failing gravity tethers was another story. They may have been the sturdiest things known to man, but even a Marker couldn't survive a tectonic plate coming down on its head. Therefore, it needed to leave the ship _without _that happening – and Kyne was apparently the sap to do it. That explained why he still lived; wouldn't be any use as a gibbering animal. The Red Marker _required_ him.

Still, Curtis wasn't too alarmed. There wasn't really anything a balding, overweight scientist could do.

Now, to return to the matter at hand. "Where's Nicole?" He knew she was nearby, but the room held several crates. One of them rattled, making him crack a smile.

"Who?"

"The Necromorph you dragged in. My friend," he answered while striding toward the container. "And thanks for coining that. 'Necromorph'. I've never gotten so much use out of a word." Kyne flushed beet-red while trying to interpose himself between Curtis and the box.

"Mr. Mason, you can't be serious! These are nothing but meat and bone, playthings of the Marker. I was just about to dissect it. You're delusional." Maybe, but the irony was rich, coming from him. Thank goodness he got here in time! Not to save Nicole, though – to keep her from ripping this guy in half.

"I can prove it to you if you let her out. I'm sure she'll be happy to see you again." Kyne looked dumbfounded for a moment before simply throwing his hands up and walking over to the crate, which shivered again. "I'm only doing this because you have a weapon."

_He's going to let you out. _A couple button presses on a control panel later, and the side fell away. Nicole tumbled out. She was dizzy, but their minds quickly connected again, so he tried to send calm feelings her way. _It's OK, just a misunderstanding._

She rattled in anger and a little embarrassment at "sleeping on the job". _Don't be angry. You saved me. _Her neck still went taut as she snapped her head over to Kyne, who looked ready to piss himself. Suddenly, her expression went as soft as it could with all the exposed bone forming her face.

"Kyne?" The sound of a Necromorph speaking made him swoon. Nicole rushed to catch him, bracing him against her forearms rather than risking being skewered on her claws.

"Hey, wake up." Curtis futilely tried to snap with his right hand – not easy to do while encased in a metal gauntlet – and waved his left in front of the doctor's dilating pupils. "Maybe this'll help." He pulled out the bottle of sports drink, less than a quarter full, and put it to the man's lips. After suckling on it like a baby would a teat, Kyne recovered some of his strength.

"Who – _what _– are you?" His skin tensed up; Curtis discerned individual goosebumps on his arms.

"I'm Nicole Brennan. Your coworker." His eyes went wide before snapping shut. The man collapsed back, bashing his head on the metal. Out cold. "Uh, I could've been a little more tactful about it," she sheepishly admitted.

"Maybe. But who cares about bedside manner now?" She rolled her four pupil-less eyes, an alien sight.

"Still something to work on." Her head turned to Kyne, wearing her version of a frown. "What are we doing with him?" Excellent question. The pallid, chunky form posed a conundrum. He explained what he'd figured out about the Marker needing him and its plan generally. Additionally, he tried to work in some memories about what he'd seen and felt during his battle with "her" so she could see what a threat they faced.

"I agree that he's not much of an issue. The Red God is more desperate than I thought." She turned to him. "I think we should leave him here. He's not fit enough to get around with us, and it seems he'll be kept alive. Perhaps we can return when the preparations to leave are nearly finished."

Curtis was in complete agreement. Not ideal, but it was the best solution available. Crazy or not, it was nice to see another friendly face around. Hopefully he'd stay that way.

**13 Hours, 15 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

If Nicole still produced serotonin, she would've been euphoric. Having her mind steamrolled into the ground lowered her standards of what it meant to feel good. Actual introspection revealed a dearth of things to feel good about, though. Curtis continued to crack, the ship fell apart and Isaac hated her guts.

_My bond with Curtis is something to be excited about. _He nodded, getting the gist of what she had to "say". Ideas were more important than words. And it should only have been a matter of time until –

Distant rumbling shook the ship. At first, it filled them with terror, for it sounded like the roar of a massive Necromorph. Only when her (former) boyfriend sprang up on Curtis' chest a moment later did she recognize the noise's source. At least he bothered to show his face this time… well, his helmet was still engaged, but close enough.

"I fixed the engines," he grumbled before turning to her. Again, Nicole's stomach would have dropped if she possessed one. "And I know you're lying. You're not her." The feed went dead, and she sighed her woodwind sigh.

"It doesn't matter what he thinks," Curtis said. "You know who you are; nobody else gets to tell you that. I've been alone long enough to know." He believed that, but she wasn't sure she could.

"Thanks," she bitterly replied.

They continued the trek. It'd be 10 or so minutes until they arrived at the station, and likely the same for Isaac; he'd probably be aboard, leading to all manner of drama, frustration and fear. Therefore, they took advantage of that time together to strengthen their link. If one good thing came from the pain the Red God inflicted, it brought their minds closer together. He still couldn't hear her thoughts by the end of it, but the notions he received were more concrete.

Then they started talking. Not about anything important: just idle conversation. Their favorite media, what they liked to do in their free time and relatives (though the latter didn't last long, as neither of them had any). Throughout, those sensations of comfort and safety flowed into her, making her as content as a napping cat. He accepted her for who she was. He made her happy.

But she couldn't abandon Isaac. They'd been together too long to leave him for a man she'd only known a week. Once he came to his senses, he'd regret everything.

_To his senses… _Her mind trailed off as she looked down to her right "hand". _Shit. _It was deeply intertwined with Curtis' left, her three massive meat hooks tenderly laced by his five thin fingers. Their bond was more than mental, it seemed!

It rubbed her the wrong way now that she was forced to choose between him and Curtis. _Choose. _That also ticked her off. She wasn't angered by needing someone in her life – her species was naturally gregarious, so of course she desired friends – but the idea that said person needed to be a romantic partner kind of aggravated. Nothing wrong with it, but the concept seemed bizarre now. Romantic dinners, cuddling? These were things she dimly remembered, yet now they seemed alien. More than that, she needed to warn him of the danger.

"Curtis, I want to get this out of the way right now," she said, trying to cultivate an air of professionalism. "_If _we get together – and that's an enormous _if _– your life will be made incredibly difficult. Do you think EarthGov or the Church of Unitology or parties we don't even know about will leave us alone?" His face grew pale as she spoke, and doubt sprouted in the cracks of his brain.

They would be hunted to the ends of the universe. She didn't want to go through that, and she especially didn't want him to.

"I'll think about it," he replied after a long while. Good. That was all she could ask.

…

It took a while to process what Nicole said, and he tried to stifle her feelings to sift through his own. That was more difficult than he expected, which made him afraid. He wanted him and Nicole to have a bridge between them, not merge into one being! He suspected it'd get easier as their bond became stronger and they grew more experienced. Didn't take Nicole's half of their connection for granted, either; melding with a human must have been different than doing the same with a Necromorph.

That aside, his friend was correct. He'd been so focused on escaping that whatever came next remained a hazy dream. The consequences of breaking free crossed his mind before, yet the act itself claimed priority. He was registered, after all!

His mind rewound. Images of the past hours and days unraveled like yarn as he remembered his jaunt onto the CEC shipyard orbiting Earth. "Curtis Mason, Class 5 Miner, RIG number 492770," he said to the woman checking people in. The CEC and probably EarthGov in general knew he was aboard. If he ever used his RIG number again – and you needed that for something as simple as buying groceries – he'd be promptly arrested and interrogated. Nicole would never see the light of day again.

He'd need a new one, if not a brand-new life! How the Hell was he supposed to do that?! Even if he did somehow obtain one, Nicole would be miserable. Moving to the boonies was a laughable notion, because the remaining biosphere of Earth was owned by the very richest or a few national parks, and colonies were all megalopoleis under atmospheric domes except a couple of terraformed "resort worlds" like Shalanx III and Kreemar. City life was the only plausible option for the bulk of humanity, but Nicole would never be able to leave whatever crappy apartment he rented. She'd be confined to a few rooms for the rest of her life. At least she had a whole ship here! Wouldn't wanting to take her from her natural environment be cruel?

He cared for her, damn it. Inexplicably, she made him happy. However, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't support her. He could barely take care of himself! Was having her languish in sorrow and misery really what he wanted for her?

All this thinking hurt his head, which made Nicole expel a pained trill. He regretted forming this bond already. Only noticed they'd arrived at the station when he nearly walked off the platform.

"It will get better, I hope," she assured him, though her not knowing hardly soothed his doubts. "These are birthing pains." He agreed, only hoping that whatever they brought into the universe was something good. After that awkward exchange, they settled back down and watched the tracks.

They didn't lack for time, at least; resting and relaxing at the tram station became a regular pastime for them, a personal tradition analogous to sitting in a dark, rundown apartment during dry spells on the job market, playing video games and watching society crumble around him. Hard to imagine that the Ishimura, one of the pillars supporting this terminally ill civilization, was gone. But he enjoyed this more. Chatting with a friend entertained him more than pointlessly contemplating the world's end, even if the apocalypse stared him in the face and plunged its blades through his abdomen.

The familiar whooping whistle came, and then the gondola was there to ferry them away. The door opened. Isaac was there, sitting across from the entrance with his arms crossed and a mixture of smugness and anger on his face.

"I knew you were lying," he sneered as they boarded. "Heard from the real Nicole again." How convenient that always happened when no one else was around. "When I find her, Curtis, you'll see that sack of flesh is conning you."

Isaac was the liar here. He wanted so badly to believe that Nicole was alive, or at least not _this_. Deep down, he knew his words were bullshit. Why wouldn't he attack her otherwise? The danger was that he might eventually fall prey to them. She saw through him, too.

"I love you, Isaac." Her voice was rough like always, but not as mournful as it once was. "I've apologized before, but not this time. I don't regret what I've become. You can accept me, or we can amicably end this, but don't treat me like I don't exist."

He had nothing to say, but Curtis supposed that was better than him telling her off. Damn it, he _wanted _them to get together again. Nicole loved Isaac. The last thing he wanted was for that to be taken away. Sadness and sour notes dripped down as Nicole fell into a funk.

They stewed in their own misery for a while until Kendra contacted Isaac. "What now?!" he exclaimed.

"There's another problem."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everybody. I'm being more productive than expected this semester. Still, I'm glad I have one more to go – graduating college in this climate wouldn't be pleasant.
> 
> The biggest struggle I had for this chapter was deciding whether Isaac should slap Nicole. I went back and forth on it for a while but ultimately determined it was the right choice. It's out of shock, not malice, but it still conveys there's no getting him back. Made me a little queasy to write, though. Weird how I'm completely fine with space zombies murdering people, but domestic abuse is too much.
> 
> I had a ton of fun writing Curtis and Nicole's link this chapter. I hope, however, I'm not moving too fast. The bit about Markers operating like shockpoint drives is my own invention, but I still think it's cool. I also hope you enjoyed my take on the Nicole hallucinations from DS 2. Both Curtis and Isaac care for her, so both see her as a monster. Just happens to Curtis earlier.
> 
> Big shout-outs to RABIDPANZER, JASONVUK, CRIMSON AN'XILEEL, DERPYSAUCE, ANCIENTOFDAYZ, DANTE ALIGHIERI1308, THAT1RISHB1OKEand CELFWRDDERWYDD for reviewing. I'm looking forward to the next update. Kind of bummed out about something, though. I posted the cover art for this to the Dead Space Reddit to get some exposure. Guess I should've expected the reaction to be… less than great about the pairing. I learned my lesson about outreach :p


	19. Outer Worlds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than I wanted, but it is the biggest chapter yet. School's ended for the semester, thank goodness. Might have more time to write now. I also got an internship in publishing for the summer, so maybe not, though.
> 
> I wanted to try something different with this update's narrative. Therefore, I decided to write the entire thing from Curtis' view; I normally try to focus on both his and Nicole's, but I thought this would be an interesting experiment. The next chapter will be completely from Nicole's perspective to compensate. Tell me what you think! Regardless, I'm much happier writing two POV characters instead of the seven or eight ASaF had. Also, the poem near the beginning is Shakespeare's Sonnet 101, if you're wondering. Mostly just picked it at random.
> 
> I have some happy news; there's art! Not for this story, but a Halo epic I've had kicking around my head for years and will continue to dream of. I've decided to completely wrap up my FNaF and Dead Space stories before I move on – they deserve concrete endings. That hasn't stopped me from wanting to see this dream in art, so I commissioned my friend HOSPITALLERINABOAT to draw the main characters. It's Male Human X Female Skirmisher and is on my DeviantArt (ANINVISIBLEMAN), so check it out!
> 
> Also, I was contacted on Discord by a fan, who wanted my permission to do some fan art of ASaF. I gave it, and he quickly produced some awesome art of Mike! Check out KARMA_IACOBUS on Twitter for the first fan art I've ever gotten!
> 
> Finally, you might notice a reference to a certain fictional megacorp in this chapter. Honestly, I should have alluded to it earlier. Though this is a Dead Space story first and foremost, I've buried the lede until now – this is, technically, a crossover fic. At some point, though not for a long time, Curtis and Nicole will encounter something… Alien.
> 
> I'd like to thank BLAUORANGE, RABIDPANZER, ANCIENTOFDAYZ, JASONVUK, CRIMSON AN'XILEEL, GUEST, CELFWRDDERWYDD, THEROCKETUERE and DERPYSAUCE for reviewing. I know I do this every chapter, but I want to take the effort to call out people who leave their thoughts. Your opinions are appreciated! I hope to keep the A/Ns shorter in the future, but I had a lot to say.

**13 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

"What's wrong now?" Isaac demanded. Curtis wasn't surprised in the slightest. Would've laughed if it didn't risk incurring anger. Always a new problem to solve, another way to die thrown at him.

"The Asteroid Defense System is offline. We're about to pass through the debris field of everything that's broken off the tectonic load. It'll obliterate the Ishimura unless the ADS gets restarted."

Fuck. Curtis jumped in his own skin, and embarrassment wriggled like tapeworms in his gut. He'd already faced multitudes of crises, but this was the first to manifest from his own actions. The ADS needed to be turned off so Gabe and Lexine could escape without their shuttle being shot down. Now, however, actual threats approached.

Nicole sensed these emotions and wordlessly asked him for an explanation. His reply was a collection of memories and images that he presented almost as a storybook. All this took only a few seconds. No words and no outward contact, yet he understood her better than anyone he'd ever met.

He'd prefer speaking when they could – that would always be more natural – but communication at the speed of thought was ideal for covert and urgent situations. He didn't know what to think of their Bond at this point.

_Bond? _Nicole thought, which made him shudder. How could he explain the sensation of someone else speaking in his mind? It happened so much over the past hours from both gods and demons. A being of flesh plucking at his neurons felt stranger than ones of stone or aether. Those things rattled his brain, pushing their messages into the gray matter. Nicole's method of communication was far more pleasant. Her mind wrapped around his, interlocking like puzzle pieces.

He cringed a moment later, wracked by another wave of pain, and he also felt hers. Well, it was more like they tried shoving together completely incongruous parts, but they'd click with more hammering. At least he really hoped so.

"Where are you now?" Isaac asked. Now that he mentioned it, the grainy background looked different than before: less industrial.

"The Executive Shuttle, actually. Downloaded everything from the Computer Core once you got me those RIG codes. Thanks again, everyone." How in the world did she manage to get there? From his understanding, Kendra was a computer peon. Yeah, he was only a miner, but it seemed odd she was able to get through the Crew Deck (probably the most infested on the ship) alive. She seemed prepared for this question. "I'm more skilled than you'd think. Anyway, that doesn't matter. I'm no engineer, but I've still been checking the software to make sure it's not corrupted. Looks good, but we'll definitely need some replacement hardware."

Fine, he dropped the question. There were more important things to worry about. A bump in the track jolted him up. He peeked at Nicole, who still smiled because of all the progress they made.

"Sabotage?" Isaac was on a roll with the questions.

"I don't think so. Nothing broken, but some stuff's… missing. Circuit boards and whatnot. It was undergoing maintenance, I believe. Most of it should be fairly easy to find." Distant roars on Kendra's end made her duck and peer to her right.

"But worry about that later," she continued in a lower tone. "I'm fortified in here and doing what I can. Get the ADS running; hopefully we're through the worst of it." Curtis really doubted that. "Hammond's waiting for you in the Captain's Nest – that's where the system is located." She was about to hang up when a strange grimace crossed her face. "Oh, one more thing." Curtis' stomach dropped when Kendra flipped her screen around to face them.

"I owe you my thanks. We wouldn't be alive right now without the two of you." He sensed a "however" coming. "But I don't trust either of you. I checked your file, Mason. Time with 'independent miners', eh? Did 'Magpie' sound too criminal for you?"

Just what he expected. She behaved rather strangely towards him ever since she saw that Enigma Mask – probably thought he was a Unitologist agent or something. The bit about his previous employment pushed it too far, though. What hypocrisy!

"Get off it," he replied, rolling his eyes. "Yes, I've worked illegal jobs in the past. Who gives a shit? They were all in Sol, and most of them were busts. There's barely anything left, and I don't care what EarthGov says." A spectral hand on his shoulder soothed his annoyance; man, this situation was weird. "Don't lecture me, you CEC mouthpiece. Your company got thousands of people killed in an operation that makes the Magpies look like jaywalkers."

They locked eyes for a moment; Isaac actually looked sympathetic to him, which added to his insult. _Save it for Nicole. _Speaking of which, Kendra turned to her.

"And _you… _well, I shouldn't have to say why I don't trust you. You're a monster!" He sneered at the language. While she wasn't wrong, her tone conveyed contempt and ingratitude. How could it when she'd helped them so much! "Just putting that out there," she muttered, disappearing before either of them could interject on their own behalves.

_It's OK, Curtis. I'll prove her – and him – wrong. _Oh, this was about Isaac. Should've known. Despite his frustration, understanding Nicole's words made him feel a bit better. They came through quiet and clear, unlike the rasp she actually spoke with. Not that this was better or worse. Just different. He liked different, honestly. Should have been obvious, considering he liked _her. _The tram rumbled on, creaking and crackling. Hopefully the repairs held.

That left Curtis to stew in his consternation. Monster. Criminal. The words made his blood boil as he riled himself into a frenzy. The headaches worsened his condition. It was only because of Nicole that he didn't explode. She didn't need words to comfort him, instead sending him good vibes. He didn't mean to make it sound like drug use, though. He'd sampled all the normal opiates of the masses (and he didn't mean Unitology), from mundane cocaine to exotic narcotics. Nothing satisfied him the way this did.

_It's not addictive, is it? _he asked her. As awesome as this was, he didn't want to experience any kind of withdrawal.

_Shouldn't be. I'll monitor your brainwaves and other processes you might not even be aware of. I'm not a psychologist, but I'll do the best I can and tell you if you're becoming dependent. _Those words put his heart at ease, so he drank deep from this serene spring. While he wanted to believe the worst was behind, something in his brain thrummed with nervous energy, like how old men and women supposedly "felt it in their bones" when a storm approached. Always thought that was bullshit, but now…

At long last, the trolley pulled into the Bridge station. Corruption and other telltale trappings of the infection returned. Walls were painted brown and pink with pulsating flesh, which comforted Nicole. They may have called her all manner of nasty things (which he didn't comprehend, as he was connected only to her), but _any_ contact with her own kind soothed her. Hammond erupted on Isaac's chest, addled and flustered.

"Isaac, come in! Kendra's right. The ADS is completely shot. I'll need your help to fix this." A distant boom shook the air like a cannonball, and Hammond's face gave way to symbols and blood for a moment. "We've entered the debris field! Get to the Captain's Nest and I'll explain everything. Hammond out."

"You know where that is?" Isaac asked as they walked.

"Yeah, it's pretty close," Curtis replied, already picking up the pace. "We just have to go down this hall and cross the Main Atrium. It should be pretty…" He trailed off as they rounded a corner. Nothing really there – some dying holographic images on the walls and a vending machine at the far end. Water dripped from broken overhead pipes, creating small puddles. No, what unsettled him were silvered panes studding the left bulkhead. It took him a minute to configure the deck's layout in his head, but he went stiff as a statue once he did.

The one-way mirrors connected to the Bridge Security Room – the place he and Nathan trapped that Brute. _Weird that I haven't seen any more of them. _Seemed more common for bodies to form individual Necromorphs instead of combining into larger ones or splitting into pieces. He shuddered at the thought of both the Graverobber and Dividers. Far worse than things his own size. He quickly shared these thoughts with Nicole, who grabbed Isaac's shoulders to stop him.

"Don't touch me, freak," he spat, holding his Plasma Cutter to her neck. Sadness pounded from her like a rumbling drumbeat, but she didn't move to stop him. She couldn't. "I'm putting up with you because, Marker-Head or not, he's human." For a so-called genius, the man was a real dumbass.

"Isaac, stop being a shithead for two seconds," Curtis hissed. "Do you hear that?" Surprisingly, he actually calmed down a little and cocked his head. The silence settled before it came again: a deep, guttural rumble from beyond the wall. It was still trapped inside. Isaac nodded. Nicole went first, getting on her belly and slithering like a snake under the windows. Shocked him how supple and spry her dead flesh was… and how much it turned him on. Such flexibility and beauty, traversing the slick floor like an amphibian. He couldn't rationally explain it, but his body didn't care.

The lower reaches of his suit tightened as he sprung an erection, which made him squirm because it jostled the catheter. Ashamed, he buried his head in the holo-projector so he didn't have to look. His mind and soul still wrestled with the morality of being attracted to a corpse. His visions complicated this more, with the bloodied "Nicole" insisting that he was a subhuman freak for his attraction. At least "her" power waned so far from the Marker; it no longer literally tried to kill him.

_Curtis, there's nothing wrong with being attracted to me, _Nicole assuaged him, wrapping ribbons of comfort around his spirit. _I'll admit, I don't understand it, yet you have nothing to be ashamed of. That you're questioning yourself shows how much you care. _He'd never thought about that. His own doubts about loving her proved that it was genuine. The phantom in his head hissed, which cemented the notion.

She sprang to her feet after passing the last pane, and a toothy smile plastered her face. _You're stronger than your demons. As you helped me through mine, you can lean on me for yours. _He wouldn't have it any other way. The rumbling came again as he dropped to his hands and knees, shimmying along while trying to avoid making noise. That'd be more difficult for Isaac, considering his RIG. Fortunately, this hall lacked any Corruption growth that could psychically alert the Brute. Perhaps that was because of the water he slowly sloshed through. It seemed to have difficulty growing in damp environs.

Last came Isaac, who had an easier time of it than Curtis expected. He applied small doses of stasis to his kneepads, which lowered the frequency of what sounds they made out of audibility. Didn't know the hearing range of Necromorphs, but even if the Brute heard his passage, it probably wouldn't think anything of it. _Fine, I admit he's smart._

Suddenly, his head split open. Before he knew it, he was laying on the floor, someone else's memories boring into his brain.

000

Seated before a packed house, Nicole recited poetry. Hot stage lights burned her flesh, and sweat dripped down her face both from heat and fear. It was scary to be in front of so many people! Her parents must have been somewhere in the sea of faces, but they all blended together. That made it slightly easier to dryly speak the time-worn words.

_O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends  
For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed?  
Both truth and beauty on my love depends;_

Good thing her memory was solid. She wanted to laugh at these ancient phrases. Who spoke like that anymore? Old languages were beautiful (she particularly liked Latin), but the idea of brushing it off and pretending it was better than modern English made her roll her eyes.

_So dost thou too, and therein dignified.  
Make answer, Muse: wilt thou not haply say  
'Truth needs no colour, with his colour fix'd;  
Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay;_

They meant nothing to her – empty stanzas and hollow lines. Her parents wanted her to be an artist or a poet or a philosopher. Something fit for the Brennan lineage. They didn't give her the best education for nothing! From the moment she was out of the artificial uterus, it seemed like she was bombarded by literature and art. Not that she hated these things, but she'd always wanted something different – something her family adamantly opposed.

_But best is best, if never intermix'd?'  
Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb?  
Excuse not silence so; for't lies in thee  
To make him much outlive a gilded tomb,_

Despite only being 11 years old, she knew she wanted to be a doctor. Why else would she feel compelled to do autopsies on her Extinct Animal Friends toys? Well, maybe she was a psychopath, but it felt natural. Too bad there was only stuffing inside. For now, she'd play along like her parents wanted her to, but she couldn't wait for the day she aced high school biology and bombed English. How could she make a difference by _thinking _about things instead of _doing _them?

_And to be praised of ages yet to be._  
Then do thy office, Muse; I teach thee how  
To make him seem long hence as he shows now.

Polite clapping came from the audience, and she bowed like a marionette before huffing and exiting stage left so the next puppet could have his or her turn.

000

"Gah!" Curtis shot up, drenched in sweat. He shivered all over and retched. The only reason he didn't burst out screaming and alert the Brute was Nicole's calming influence on his mind. She knew what he saw and heard and smelled and thought. He didn't.

"Are you OK?" Isaac whispered. He nodded and slowly pushed himself up.

"Yeah, I'm fine." The man hesitated before turning around and placing his hand on the door to the Atrium. _What the fuck was that?!_

_Me as a child, thinking about the future, _she replied. _I was worried about this. We're becoming closer. You can hear and see my thoughts, but you're going deeper now. Into my past. It can be… jarring. _No kidding. _It won't be everything, just very important moments. The things that make me who I am – or was. _He still shivered, but the strange feelings already began to pass. Honestly, that was incredibly cool. Like, he got a glimpse into someone else's life! He'd be OK with it if it didn't happen constantly, and hopefully at less crucial times.

The door slid open. Much quieter than most other doors; well, no expenses could be spared when it came to officers. The horizontal halves parted, and he sighed. He remembered when he first came through – piles of bodies everywhere while alarms signaled the end.

Now all lay quiet. Red light from the twin red giants bathed ship and ancient planet alike. Would've appeared normal if not for the utter lack of life. The corpse heaps had all assembled into Necromorphs, and no Corruption grew, either. Appeared to also have issues forming in open areas. Perhaps that was because Necromorphs themselves favored enclosed spaces. Nicole acknowledged the Corruption as a biome, so it made sense to only terraform areas where its "citizens" would inhabit.

_Terraform. _It made him retch. This infection ravaged ships and space stations, twisting them into hellish hives, yet he couldn't imagine the annihilation to befall planets. He saw it now – colony domes blackened by expanding flesh, the interiors dark and writhing with a million limbs as great tendrils pushed into uninhabitable wastes. The few "resort worlds" awash in blood, their vibrant life converted into soldiers. And worst of all, the great cities of Earth as gigantic tumors, consuming the entire planet under a sky blackened with the smoke from nuclear or antimatter warheads. They stood at the edge of the apocalypse.

The "roof" (floors above him, more accurately) shook as they softly traversed the metal. He thought little of it, at first. Probably some piece of machinery screaming as it failed, doubtlessly one of a hundred such breakages happening concurrently. But it became louder and shriller, whistling like a train. "What is – "

The ceiling exploded as a brown blur rocketed down less than three feet in front of him. A split second later, it was through the floor, and the shockwave shoved them all back. Fortunately, Curtis managed to keep himself from falling on his bad shoulder. He pulled himself up and together, unable to comprehend what happened.

"**H-hull breach detected," **the stuttering AI "helpfully" stated. **"Cooooooontainment at 94%."**

"We just got holed by a meteor," Isaac exclaimed. A peek over the edge of the jagged, gaping hole confirmed this to be true; a rock the size of a small car lilted about 10 floors down. Then he glanced up at the sparking, wire-filled mess above; a cascade tumbled from a severed aqueduct down the shaft. The exterior had been reinforced with a sealant grid, fortunately.

However, the danger had only begun; this was merely a vanguard. Out the windows, he saw thousands of tiny gray or brown spots against black canvas on the right side of the craft. The continent-sized chunk of rock weighing them down was also visible on the left, as were the edges of the gargantuan crater they remained in geosynchronous orbit with.

He grasped the basics of planet cracking physics. Chunks of stone and mineral broke off from the main body and entered orbit around the world, creating a ring. The ADS was supposed to neutralize pieces large enough to threaten the ship, but with it off, the Ishimura would be pulverized in minutes once the swarm finished its first lap.

"We need to move," Nicole said, giving voice to his thoughts. They hustled to the bow and quickly descended the flights of stairs. Took much longer than he recalled, yet they eventually reached the Captain's Nest. A hallway led from the stairs to the door, and both sides of the hall were studded with escape pods. The area was far from any shuttles, so it made sense to jettison these people and have shockpoint-equipped craft circle back to pick them up.

A number of them were gone. Many people in this area were complicit in the CEC's machinations, but he still felt sorry for them. Horrid as his own situation was, dying here seemed better than cowering in a coffin the size of a washing machine, either starving from the lack of food or freezing/suffocating when life support failed. The Marker would still be near enough to induce madness; their final hours were probably spent clawing their faces open. Nicole again comforted him and again he walked forward. What would he do without her?

_Don't worry, _she told him. _There's nothing but air in those escape pods. Nothing but air… _She trailed off, and her gaze turned to a unit very close to the door. A ragged growl escaped her throat, making Isaac tense. "There's something in that one," she said, pointing to it with a foot-long talon. Sure enough, two scythes tapped on the window, not quite strong enough to crack the transparent alloy. It roared, but the noise diminished as the pod began to rotate. Curtis thought he imagined it until the capsule was jettisoned into the void with a soft _thuck. _They stood stock-still for a moment, unable to discern what happened.

"That was bizarre," said Isaac, opening the threshold. Curtis and Nicole looked at each other and snickered like children sharing a joke. _That _was the weird thing?! Her contentment wrapped around him like a hug, and he hoped she experienced the same. Regardless, they stepped into the room a second later.

Not much had changed, though this part of the ship now faced away from the suns; they were only illuminated by dim lamps. A pitch void hung outside. The spinning map of the planet blinked and flashed wildly; indecipherable error messages flashed red gibberish across it. As always, he discerned the faces of the dead in such static. Therefore, he kept his eyes off it as much as he could.

Hammond stood to the side, typing something on a holographic keyboard with unsteady hands. His face twitched, which highlighted the angry scar, but he didn't seem completely crazy. Not yet. He beckoned them inside.

"Was that the one you trapped?" Isaac asked.

"Yeah. It might've broken out. Forgot to do it earlier." They could have dispatched it, but why waste what little ammunition they had? Still, the thought of a Necromorph drifting in an escape pod unnerved him. He knew more likely than not it'd be sucked into Aegis VII and that plenty of other bodies had already been lost to space, most disturbingly the Spider. He'd have to revisit the site of that massive battle on his way to the cannons.

He glanced up from his work, double-taking and stumbling back. Curtis' head whipped around; nothing but some old furniture and Nicole. Oh, that explained it.

"Drone, right? Damn, you scared me. Then again, this place is making me jumpy in general. Fucking asteroids coming through the roof…" He slumped over into a chair, burying his head in his hands a moment before looking up at him and Nicole.

"I know Kendra doesn't trust you, but this was supposed to be a repair mission, plain and simple. This isn't exactly protocol, but I'm not about to turn down help… even if you did delete the Marker data." Curtis took a deep breath and steadied his twitching leg. Hours of running and jumping brought spasms and cramps along with simple pain.

"Do you have any evidence I did that?" he asked. Normally, he would have been utterly transparent, but Nicole somehow strengthened his resolve. She gave him courage he otherwise would have lacked. Therefore, he said this with a straight face. Helpful as these abilities were, it pained him to utilize them for deception.

"No, but I have suspicions." He shook his head. "Well, no harm either way. Not like the Marker's going anywhere. It'll still be here when the extraction team arrives." That's what scared Curtis.

Then he turned to Nicole, and his eyes narrowed. "Speaking of which, do you _want_ to return with us to Earth? The Marker may not have yielded results… but you will." The threat made both of them stiffen, and Curtis stepped between them, only feeling like an idiot after the fact. What was he going to do?

Though she appreciated his candor, Nicole was strong enough to stick up for herself. "I'm a member of this crew. I have rights."

"And those will be duly considered," he replied, going back to his work. "I'm a company man. That's no secret. You may think me heartless, but success for the CEC is success for humanity as a whole. I can't imagine what we'd learn from you." Of course he'd say that. The CEC never stopped trumpeting the invention of Planet Crackers and hauling humanity out of extinction.

_Humanity, or themselves?_

"Without them, we would still be stuck in the Resource Wars, bombing each other for whatever scraps we could. All this being a bust," he paused and nodded at the holographic planet, "will set the company back considerably. You'd be a very valuable asset, along with other 'samples', of course."

Her annoyance turned to outright anger, staccato static dancing across his mind. This synesthesia made his head spin. "Do you honestly think the people at the top will ever let me leave? I'd probably be sold to EarthGov," she spat. To this, he had no answer.

Man, the CEC sucked! Even before all this, he'd seen them in the news multiple times for various scandals. He kicked himself for being shanghaied to his death by the (relatively) high salary and insurance.

It was a common platitude that _all _corporations were out to get people, but was there any company worse? EA, maybe – they'd treated their employees like shit for hundreds of years, he'd heard. However, there was a standout, one that actually might have topped Concordance Extraction in terms of corporate excess and greed: Weyland-Yutani.

A megacorp in every sense of the word, Wey-Yu had many fingers in many pies – shipping, colonization and the manufacture of goods both mundane and exotic. He almost certainly had some of their products in his apartment. Now that he thought about it, the conglomerate was rather unusual in its expanded portfolio. Most simply stuck with one thing.

The only thing he knew they didn't have a hand in was mining; the CEC was too protective of its vertical monopoly to let anyone else muscle in. Hence the CEC was… he tried to recall. _The fifth biggest company,_ he thought. _Wey-Yu is number four_. The three largest were all EarthGov subsidiaries, so they were more part of the government than corporations in their own right. He knew they jockeyed for the most government contracts, and there was likely corporate espionage he couldn't imagine. Not like he had a dog in that fight. Frankly, he hoped they tore each other apart. _Unless the Necromorphs get them first. _He shook his head and listened to what Hammond had to say.

"Anyway, this mess is the Asteroid Defense System." He waved a hand across dozens of flickering readouts. "I have no idea what's wrong with it. Any suggestions, Isaac?" The engineer looked at the readouts and cross-referenced them with the onboard database, searching for problems large and small.

"Looks like the main power routing is shot. That's the big problem. Also, one of the cannons was also manually turned off – this one right here." It was the one he'd disabled with Nathan, of course.

"How did that happen?"

"No clue. Uni sabotage, maybe. Wouldn't put it past the savages. They wrecked a lot of systems before offing themselves."

Curtis' face flamed as the world was tinted red. Yeah, Mercer and Mathius were horrible people, but also Sam and Kyne were good. The Black Marker itself said the CEC scraped together fanatics for this. The thing was nice enough for a god. More than rage, he also felt guilt. Even if turning the mortar off helped people escape, it endangered even more now.

There was no way in Hell he'd tell Hammond about Gabe and Lexine, speaking of escape. He already threatened to have Nicole vivisected or something equally morbid. What would he do about a very special woman and a man who led to the death of a CEC executive?

"How long do we have until the main swarm intercepts us?" Isaac asked.

Hammond shrugged. "Hard to tell. Kendra said less than an hour… and that was several minutes ago." Another distant peal of thunder rocked the deck as he said that, making them all cringe. Fearful clouds blanketed his brain, though he wasn't sure if they came from himself or Nicole. "It doesn't matter, though. We've wasted enough time and need to get moving." It wasn't until he stood up that Curtis realized that included Hammond himself.

He hated the idea of him watching their every move. Not that he had anything particularly against Hammond, regardless of his shit. Seemed to care about people under his command, at least, and threatening people was part and parcel with his position. "Just doing his job" or not, though, there was no reason to trust him. Isaac also objected, though for more noble reasons.

"We? Hammond, you have to stay here." The engineer walked up to his superior and gently scooted a chair up. "You're a soldier, but I'm kicking you behind the desk on this one. We need someone to coordinate. Kendra's busy, I'm the person who fixes shit, Curtis can kill these things like nobody's business, and I don't trust _her_." Demeaning Nicole aside, at least he called her "her" instead of the impersonal "it". Also showed he had more social skills and empathy than he let on. Hammond stood for a moment before letting out a huff.

"Fine. Make the old warrior your secretary." The tone was more bemusement than frustration, which Curtis supposed was a good sign. Another distant explosion. "Go."

They didn't need to be told twice! Hours of running, jumping and so on made him feel like a robot as he climbed the stairs. Every breath split his chest; every movement made him wince. The silver lining was that Nicole took some of his pain, bearing the burdens he couldn't. Still, indefatigable as she appeared, she began to tire, as well. Her lengthy tongue lolled like a dog's, spritzing moisture across her skin while he saw her lungs inflate and shrivel within her split rib cage, pantomiming what they used to do. _I seriously find this attractive?_

_Hey, people don't look the best when they're exhausted, _Nicole quipped back, turning to him while flashing a grin. She sarcastically threw her head back like a model in a shampoo commercial, which made him snicker.

He wasn't questioning his own feelings, though. Well, he still did in terms of morality, but they were definitely his own and not Marker-induced delusions. _Maybe not most people, but you do._

He knew Nicole didn't give a shit about her appearance, but she felt flattered by his words. Would've blushed if she still had the capacity to do so. Isaac shook his head, having no idea what happened between the two. Probably thought they were having a damn staring contest.

They reached the Atrium again after ages, stumbling up the final steps. Curtis nearly collapsed, keeping himself upright only by gripping the railing so tightly that it crumpled under his augmented grasp. Isaac had it easier by virtue of not having spent as much time on the move.

"What's the plan?" he asked while they headed for the elevator shaft in the center.

"From what I saw, there're two breaks in the power routing – one in Mining Administration and one in ADS central targeting." The words reverberated so much in the empty chamber that it sounded like two people spoke. "Should be pretty simple. One's up, one's down."

Another thunderous blast rocked the ship as they strode towards the elevator. This one sounded nearby. He and Isaac cringed, but fear spiked in his brain as Nicole's head flew wildly around. A second impact, and she let out a growl like a scared dog. Her thoughts were so jumbled he couldn't tell what the matter was. _Nicole, what's wrong?_

The question was answered by the third blow, even louder, but otherwise the same. What kind of asteroid hit three times? _None. But Necromorphs do. _He whirled to his right just in time for the fourth strike, this one tearing a massive hole in the rent door to Bridge Security. Two tiny yellow pinpricks peered out of the darkness, though their owner's size made them look comical atop such a massive body.

From the way it looked at Curtis as it skulked forward, he knew the Brute remembered him and that it was pissed. They'd be dead by the time the snail-like elevators arrived, so holding out wasn't an option. They needed to fight. While Curtis had evaded or outsmarted even larger monsters, he had no tricks or explosives up his sleeve this time. There were no obstacles and no time to run. They had two options: fight or die.

The Brute shifted from its normal four-legged stance to a two-legged one like an extinct bear, reaching a pants-shitting height of 15 feet. Pounding its chest, it opened its tiny mouth and shrieked before charging. It was much faster than Curtis expected for a creature its size. He might've been crushed had Nicole not jolted him into action via their Bond. A second before being steamrolled, he dove aside. Pain arced through his arm and he screamed as he came down hard on his injured shoulder.

_Curtis! _Nicole yelled in his head, which throbbed. The agony spiked at the sound of a Plasma Cutter firing; Isaac unloaded into the Brute's torso, but it barely staggered the fetid beast.

He couldn't move. Nothing was broken, but his muscles were so weak he couldn't pull himself another inch. He'd thought that before, but it was true this time. Mental exhaustion from the Marker melded with the lassitude he felt from hauling ass up several flights of stairs.

All he could do was endure the pulses of pain ripping through his head and wait for it to be over. The ceiling whirled overhead. Voices yelled at him, some telling him to rise, some saying to embrace death. They did nothing but exacerbate his agony. Scarlet suns burned as beacons to guide whatever horrors lurked beyond the edges of human space… or even within them.

Dead space. Red space. It would get even deader and redder if the Marker had its way.

_I'm sorry, _he thought to the void. The Brute continued to shrug off Isacc's attacks. It loomed over him now, cast in crimson light. Its mouth managed a smile, and it raised its massive forelimbs over its head. They'd squash him as easily as him stepping on a bug. _To everyone I let down, I'm sorry I wasn't stronger._

The hulking silhouette screamed one last time, and Curtis squeezed his eyes shut, hoping for a quick death. Didn't come, though. Somehow, he remained. More shrieks followed, punctuated by angry stomps. He wrenched an eye open.

Almost thought it was a hallucination, but he knew the Red Marker wouldn't let him imagine something so beautiful.

Nicole straddled the Brute's shoulders, riding it like a jockey on a horse. Though the much larger creature thrashed about, its limbs weren't quite long enough to reach its head, which she hacked at with her talons. Her four eyes blazed with rage, but that was nothing compared to the antipathy that coursed through her mind to his. This was the first of her siblings she'd ever hated for what it nearly did! She tamed a demon to save him – a fierce warrior-goddess harrowing Hell for the sake of a friend. It sounded mythic, but she was his guardian angel.

And as his savior battled in Heaven, he passed out again.

000

Nicole stood at the empty husk of Washington Station, tapping her foot and fidgeting with the holo-screen on her RIG. The train was late. Didn't surprise her – the public transportation on Luna was notoriously bad – but why did it have to happen now?!

A man bled out at New Horizons General Hospital and a bad accident on the Loop kept other actual doctors stranded. Who else to call but the intern fresh out of medical school? She lived closest, after all! The cold air nipped at her face.

Whispering made her glance to her right. A group of punks sauntered over, not-so-subtly eyeing her up. Maybe they wanted to harass her, maybe they thought she was open to their idea of a good time. She and they were the only ones in this hub of urban decay. Artificial wind flowed over her, chilling her bones. The architects really captured the feel of an Earth megacity – you couldn't tell the difference if the whole place wasn't hermetically sealed and old Terra didn't constantly hang in the tidally locked sky.

She sighed as the delinquents approached, racking her brain about why she was here at all. With her grades, she could have gotten a residency at Venus Waypoint School of Medicine or the Heliopause Observer's Center for the Healing Arts – maybe even Titan Memorial Medical Center! They always needed doctors on the Sprawl with it being the primary hub of planet cracking and space travel generally in the outer solar system; injuries sustained in deep space or the colonies went there first.

But those weren't valuable enough. She became a doctor to help people, not get rich. Not to say everyone at those aforementioned places was well-off, nor that physicians there were only in the business for money. Not at all! But she could make a difference on New Horizons; the Moon had been a backwater slum for centuries. Long since stripped of minimal resources, the citizenry lingered in poverty. These people needed help.

_Nicole, you're a madwoman, _she thought. Being tailed by creeps made her reconsider her life choices. Deep down, she knew she wouldn't have done anything differently, but times like this made her wish she became an artist or poet like her parents wanted.

"Hey, babe," one of them said as he saddled up to her. "We're lookin' for good times, if you know what we mean." She bristled under the hot, awful breath. Fluoridated water could only do so much. "So how 'bout you come home with us?" The other guys wolf-whistled their agreement.

One of the pitfalls of being a "hot chick" as her friends said. She didn't think of herself as particularly attractive, but then again, she lived with her face every day. A lot of guys seemed to think so, though most weren't so _aggressive _as these "gentlemen". Indeed, she was flattered by a lot of the attention, even if it was exclusively for the appearance. Honestly, she thought it was mostly the hair. With centuries of population drift and racial homogenization, the recessive blonde gene had become a rarity. Sure, people could dye it, but it wasn't the same.

"No thanks," she muttered, shoving him off her. He put a hand in his pocket – probably a gun or a knife in there. He didn't scare her. Not now, at least. Washington Station had cameras everywhere. He hurt her, and members of the gendarmerie would be all over them in minutes. If this was some alley, she'd reconsider.

"Don't be shy, sugar," he said, not taking the hint. Now Nicole began to steam. Couldn't they program her into Peng if they wanted her so badly?!

"I'm a doctor, if you haven't noticed," she snapped, gesturing at her clearly medical RIG. Not many people wore white jumpsuits. "And I'm trying to save some guy about your age who's in critical condition from a gunfight. Sound familiar?"

"Not one of my buddies, so why should I care?" She actually wanted to punch him but managed to keep from flying off the handle. Did he really not get it?!

"What if one of you gets shot, hmm?" she quipped. "What if it's in the heart or head or a place you can't just slap Somatic Gel on and call it a day? Would you want your buddies to let you die just so you can fuck someone, you sack of garbage?"

A second of silence passed before the train howled into the station. Its noise masked the thugs scurrying off. She felt herself smile and shook her head before boarding.

000

_Curtis, get up! _Moaning, he pushed himself away. In the span of seconds, he'd experienced several minutes. Isaac's hand gripped his shoulder, hauling him back while another appendage fired bolts of plasma. Between chopping and burning, bits of flesh flew off the body. Another hour, and they might have ground it into mulch.

Screams turned to formless burbles as Nicole broke through the thick layers of chitin and, with surgical precision, ripped its fucking head off. The sight made him laugh, but joy quickly turned to terror as the beast bucked harder than ever. Without anything to grab, she was finally dislodged, flying at him.

Curtis' muscles snapped to life. Not to evade the form rocketing forward, but to intercept it. With how fast she traveled, hitting a hard surface would make her a pancake. Mind screaming, he leapt into her path with arms outstretched and the relatively pliant material construing his RIG's torso facing towards her. The air was knocked from his lungs as they tumbled back, rolling across the floor a moment before coming to a halt.

"The crazy things I do," he muttered after heaving a few times. The Brute slowly stumbled closer, able to feel their vibrations. The lack of Corruption proved an asset, as it couldn't direct the creature to their exact location.

"You saved me again," Nicole muttered.

"You saved me first," he replied. "We haul each other out of trouble a lot." Nicole smiled, and feelings of warmth and gratitude arced from her mind to his. To his shock, she pulled him into a tight hug. His heart stopped as she held him. Her cold flesh pressed against his stomach while long claws worked their way around his back.

At that moment, he might have been able to probe her mind and learn whether this gesture was purely platonic or something more. However, he didn't want to invade her privacy. Their two psyches were linked, but they were still different people, not a gestalt intellect inhabiting multiple shells. He felt himself smile, tasting the omnipresent blood in his mouth, before reciprocating the gesture. They lay still for a moment, basking in the comfort and acceptance of the other's mind and body.

Of course, they still had a monster to kill. They broke the embrace after a few seconds to stand up. Curtis shot her one last awkward glance before steeling himself to kill an ogre. With his knight-like armor and heavy weapon, he supposed this was a little like a space-age fairy tale. The really old ones with all the blood and gore, anyway.

The Brute gurgled again as it pounded the floor. It and Isaac danced a tango of death; seemed he'd been so set on destroying this thing that he missed their little embrace. Definitely for the best. They could probably lure it away at this point, but it might come back to haunt them later. Better to destroy it now. As Isaac's fruitless firing proved, though, that was easier said than done. The monster's hide was nearly impenetrable, and he couldn't exploit an enormous craw like with the Graverobber or Spider.

Still, it must have had a weakness. Nicole sometimes mentioned their "biological perfection", which he called bullshit on. Yes, they were tough, but the fact they could be killed betrayed this claim. No such thing as perfection. _Any ideas?_

The almost academic question turned practical as the Brute got in a lucky hit. A swoop of its massive arm, and Isaac dangled by his foot, screaming.

"Damn it!" he shouted, pulling the Line Gun off his back. "Nicole, gimme something!" The safety clicked off, and the barrel widened.

"Hey! Help me!" Isaac yelled. He tried to use stasis, but the flailing made his shot go wild; the sphere of tachyons exploded against the floor.

Words would have taken too long; a few more seconds and the engineer would be ripped in half. Fortunately, they needed no such things. Nicole burned the solution into his mind the moment it entered hers.

As the Brute raised the screaming man above its head to tear him asunder, putrid yellow sacks came into view behind the shoulders, normally hidden by the configuration of chitinous plates. "It's gonna fucking kill me!"

Nicole charged while Curtis took a knee and aimed like an ancient bronco. _I'm goddamn Cowboy Curtis. _He had time for only two or three shots, and mines weren't an option; he wasn't about to blow up his friends!

Time slowed. He closed his eyes and breathed deep of the artificial, rotten air. It wasn't home and never would be, but somehow, he knew this was what he was made for. He hated doing this, especially now that he knew how much pain it caused Nicole. Still, no one could kill Necromorphs better – the fact he remained alive testified to that. The voices in his mind, good or ill, didn't change it. Others helped and hindered his journey, but the primary force driving him was himself. Life knocked him down, yet he always managed to spring back up. Now, with iron chains weighing his ankles, he needed to do so again.

He opened his eyes, ignoring all the voices: the Markers, the Shadow Man, the phantom Nicole, Sam, Nathan, Isaac (though that one was harder, being physical) and even, with reluctance, the real Nicole. He appreciated her words more than any other, but he could aim a Line Gun better than any of them.

He fired the tool-turned-weapon. The recoil made his shoulder scream, and he suddenly felt a small pang of empathy for the creature; he shot it exactly where _he _hurt. Another bolt, this one adjusted for the drift. Ozone wafted into his helmet as plasma ionized the air. He never tired of the chemical odor. Then the third. He didn't bother firing more. No point in wasting scarce ammo; he was down to about a dozen Line Racks. By the time a fourth shot hit, either the Brute would be dead, or Isaac would be a limbless blob gushing blood across the ground. All he could do was watch whatever carnage unfolded.

Nicole arrived at the same time the first bolt of superheated particles did. She wouldn't kill her sibling, but she might save her lover.

The first blast was perfectly aimed, striking the upper back and searing the pustules in both shoulders. Even as she leapt onto the Brute's arm, Nicole winced, and he shared in her pain. Though distilled by two degrees of separation and different ways of processing stimuli, the discomfort was substantial.

_Let him go! _Her psychic screech was so loud it made his head rattle despite being directed at something else entirely. He'd hate to be the target. The thing was shocked by the mental impact as if paralyzed by an electric shock. That allowed the second gaseous projectile to strike true. The Brute expelled a hollow roar as it lurched forward, nearly throwing Nicole as she mantled its arm. "I'm here, Isaac," she said, just barely audible above the stomping and burbling.

That brought the third. Its back was already charred and blackened by burns while the saffron sacks spurted noxious gore. While not quite as accurate, it still skimmed both while largely sailing over the fiend's head (or where it used to be) before smashing into a window with a sickening hiss. It was just enough.

The floodgates burst, pouring the flammable liquid around its feet. Spontaneously combusting, the monster ignited. Dry flesh popped as it emitted one final groan. The arms fell away, which dropped Isaac and Nicole several feet.

Right into the fire.

"Nicole!" he screamed, sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him. Fire licked her flesh, but she barely noticed. Her thoughts focused entirely on saving Isaac, who remained trapped in the tight grip of the Brute's severed arms. The monster itself fell to the side, no longer an issue, unlike its victuals.

"Isaac, you're going to be OK!" she shouted as the flames evaporated moisture from her "skin". She steamed like a broiling lobster, but self-preservation flew out the window in the face of saving the one she loved. He only hoped to be so brave.

"**Fire in the Main Atrium," **the AI spouted. **"Activating suppression systems**_**ssssssss**_**." **Water poured from the ceiling, making him slip and bash his head like a fucking slapstick comedy. Nothing funny about it, especially since the rain wouldn't do shit! The moronic system couldn't tell this was a chemical fire – water only made those worse by spreading whatever caused it! All miners knew that.

Indeed, the gouts licked higher as she finally chopped off the Brute's sausage-like fingers and hauled him from Hell. Curtis finally arrived, used stasis on Nicole to confound the burning and wiped away as much of the flammable mixture as he could with his hands. Despite her lethargic thoughts, he sensed her gratitude before she snapped back into regular spacetime.

Some of her exposed muscle was charred black, though it didn't hurt her, and most was the standard brownish pink. Time and a little Somatic Gel should fix her up. The three of them stood without speaking (or thinking, in the case of him and Nicole) as they watched the Brute's corpse burn and the sprinklers chug along.

Isaac shivered from the experience. He moaned, which broke Nicole's heart… and his. Asshole or not, nobody deserved such trauma, and it could only get worse. Nicole held and comforted her boyfriend the best she could. With the rain, it was almost like something from a drama vid. If only his life was so tame. _No. I wouldn't have met Nicole without this. _He still wished it never happened, but since it did, he was glad to be there.

"Isaac," she said, firmly yet tenderly, "wake up." He moaned, which made Curtis sigh with relief. Not dead yet.

"I'm… OK," he coughed, shaking his head and sitting up. His helmet retracted; Curtis wasn't surprised to see the man's eyes overflowing with tears. "Thank you both so much. I'd be dead without you." Well, he bounced back quickly, at least.

The man needed some kind of physical affection, and Nicole worried he would react negatively to a "monster" providing it. Well, Curtis had never been a touchy-feely kind of guy, but he nevertheless clasped Isaac on the shoulder and pulled him in for a side hug. That's what guys did, right? Soothed him a little.

"Nicole, call the elevator. Isaac, come with me a second." He mentally relayed his plan to Nicole – in a moment, he achieved what would normally take several seconds. Paltry gains, but they'd accumulate. Their Link's potency on the battlefield had just been proven, and out-of-combat they'd known for a little while. At first, he worried about leaning into this too much, wanting to keep it "professional", as if knowing someone's thoughts and sharing their memories could be pushed to arm's length. Scared him even more with Nicole's past bombarding him, but he sensed this was like quicksand; if he fought it, it would consume him.

Anyway, he wanted to take Isaac to Bridge Security and poke around a little before the lift arrived. There might be some useful tools, or at least some Line Racks, Plasma Energy or other little cartridges of gas that could be superheated. Actual guns that shot plasma were unusual, but they did exist and were largely compatible with mining equipment. One good thing about the corporate hegemony was that everything became standardized.

"Be quick," she replied before walking over to the elevator and tapping the call button with an oversized claw.

"C'mon, man." He helped Isaac around the smoldering meat pile as the sprinkler systems just ran out of water; that burst pipe from the asteroid must have cut off the local supply.

They walked through the gaping hole to the room over, which did indeed have supplies, although they had to dig through Corruption to find anything worthwhile. Rifling through the clutter and broken bits, he located around 20 more "bullets". 10 he gave to Isaac, and 10 he kept for himself. He knew Necromorphs didn't produce waste, but his addled mind at first thought the quagmire was the Brute's shit. He also returned to the locker where the prototype Timson Tools RIGS were stored. The few remaining had been completely wrecked by the creature thrashing around. Isaac's more industrial model would have to do for him.

"The conveyor's here," Nicole abraded from the Atrium.

"Great, we'll be there in a second." Curtis turned around, but Isaac wasn't coming. "She said the…" He trailed off. The engineer stood straight and stiff. From behind the slats, his gaze was trained on a fractured television screen that blared static.

Something within called him, and Curtis also saw patterns and faces within the fog. The faces, he understood; why wouldn't the Marker torment him with those departed. The sigils were what he found inexplicable. There was nothing scary about Marker runes; squiggles and lines were hardly the stuff of nightmares. To throw him off, maybe? A headache began to squish his brain, so he looked away from the oscillating illusions. No, it seemed like something more. Couldn't explain it, yet some kind of pattern appeared to be embedded in their ebbs and flows. If only he was smart enough to figure it out.

_Do you know what that's about? _he asked Nicole.

_I did, though I don't recall now. I can remember most things about my old life now… but not the symbols. I figured it out, but the Red God wants me to forget. _That took him aback. If the Marker suppressed her memories of the uncials, that proved how dangerous they could be.

Whether this danger was to them or the Marker itself… he wondered.

He was about to shove Isaac to snap him from his trance, but that happened without his intervention. The man whirled around and marched toward the elevator, which Nicole patiently held open. At first, Curtis found this encouraging, but fear grew in his stomach when he recognized the hostility in his movements.

"You almost got me," he sneered. Unlike last time, he didn't pin her against the wall or hit her, but Curtis still simmered at him giving her so much shit! "You may have her memories and you may act like her, but you aren't Nicole."

"What makes you say that," she asked as calmly as a summer afternoon. Curtis sensed what Isaac couldn't, though. Underneath the composed exterior, she ached. She could no longer shed physical tears, but the pain tormenting her soul hurt him even more. He understood Isaac no longer entirely controlled his own actions, but he was still somewhat culpable.

"The TV in there." He shrugged toward the room they'd just been in. "The real Nicole was on it." Curtis rolled his eyes. Crazy or not, he had to realize how nonsensical that was. "I know it sounds crazy, but she has high-level clearance. She could hack those systems. Again, I'm going to find her. Right now, she's on the Medical Deck, waiting for me." He paused, and the look on her broken face made him take a step back. Isaac could be an asshole, sure, but he wasn't a monster. "Look, maybe you _think _you're Nicole. But how can you know for sure? If it can control your family, maybe it could at least convince you into thinking you're someone you're really not."

"Yeah. Maybe," she bitterly replied. Didn't staunch her pain. The elevator arrived. Two floors for three people. Someone was going solo.

_Go with him, _Curtis thought to her as she sulked aboard.

_No. You need help._

_He needs it more. You hear how crazy he's going? _He looked over at Isaac, who still wrung his hands as he pined for Nicole. _This might be your last chance. You love him, and I don't want to take that away from you. _She caved.

"Isaac, may I come with you?" she asked.

"Yes." The response made both of them flinch with surprise. He didn't expect it to be so smooth. "Whoever or whatever you are, I trust you. You saved my life multiple times now. I'd be happy to have you."

Nicole bounced up and down on her long, springy toes. Curtis tried to project an aura of happiness while also burying his dismay.

**13 Hours, 45 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Curtis stepped out of the elevator, his eyes darting around. They'd decided to send him to Mining Administration on the basis of him being a miner. Good as any logic. He felt more vulnerable than usual without another person beside him. It was back to basics for him – no gun or claws to rely on beside his own. Physically, at least.

Nicole's mind was faint and hazy, but it still brushed the edges of his consciousness. _You there? _Warmth flowed through his neurons, though it was more like lukewarm tap water with the distance between them. How far, exactly? From what he knew, the Bridge ran across the bow from bilge to topside. They were virtually antipodal – Mining Administration was near the top, and the mechanized subroutines near the bottom, inasmuch as these terms mattered in space. That was a mile. A mile filled with electronics, metal and flesh. He was curious whether physical objects hindered this wholly metaphysical phenomenon.

It'd be interesting to see how he coped without Nicole in his head. Hopefully an hour of this hadn't left him permanently unable to tie his shoes without help! In all seriousness, though, it'd be nice to have a break from interpersonal drama for a little while. None of those crazy visions, either. Again, he couldn't complain too harshly. Nobody else could claim first-hand knowledge of being someone of another gender, background, etc. He hated being such a creeper into her life, if unintentionally, though she didn't seem to mind. Still, that couldn't happen if she wasn't around.

He stepped into the hallway, sweeping his light across the metal. Nothing mauled him, which was a start. He started to feel more confident until the room exploded.

A Z-Ball sized asteroid blasted through the side of the Ishimura, tearing an outsized hole. Curtis gasped, but he wasn't in particular danger; this was a small area, so the suction didn't have much effect. Still, the fact he found himself sucking bottled oxygen was a bad omen for the future.

"_Containment at 94%?" Yeah, sure. _This was right next to the edge of the ship, as he learned when he peeked out. No rooms separated him, just a few layers of hull material. He stuck out a hand as if to feel the void of space. He usually found the infinite nothingness beautiful, but this was the most hideous view of space he'd ever seen.

The slate and dirt of Aegis VII was backlit by the light of its suns. The light filtered through the filthy atmosphere, creating a rusty orange corona. Swarms of asteroids barreled closer; though still the size of sesame seeds, things in space traveled _fast. _They had maybe half-an-hour until the Ishimura was blown to Hell. No time to stand around, though he shot a quick glance at another piece of CEC propaganda.

"**The Brains Behind the Muscle," **the half-dead holo-sign proclaimed. It featured a smartly dressed man with a finger to his chin in contemplation while the rest of the head was cut off. An apt visual. The portrait was now brainless… much like all the people who used to work there.

Ugh, why was he so distracted?! He had a job to do. Setting his metaphorical baggage aside, he strode up the hall. No way he'd use all the oxygen in his tank. Fortunately, there weren't any surprises along the way – no more explosions or Necromorphs. The worst he got was a minor headache, and those were as natural as breathing by this point.

The last vestiges of Nicole's mind faded as he went further along; the vacuum was good in this case, for the lack of sound made the words flowing through his brain clearer. Though he no longer sensed specific words, it at least felt like she was OK. Her and Isaac hadn't murdered each other yet. With that, she slipped out of his neurons entirely. Reality wobbled for a second while a chill passed down his spine and along his nervous system.

It passed after a second, leaving him… emptier. His heart sank when he reached out for the warmth and light of another mind, finding emptiness in its place. _It's fine, _he told himself. _It'll be good to get away for a while._

Mining Administration came into view; the holographic nameplate over the threshold bid him welcome. According to his map, the room was nearly as large as the Main Atrium, and the system that needed rerouting sat near the very back. His stomach tightened.

A heavily populated room would find many of its inhabitants there in death. However, the open space provided plenty of room to sneak around, much like the Morgue. That actually was a benefit of Nicole not being present – he might be able to traverse the territory without tripping a psychic alarm.

He also lucked out with the door itself. For some reason, a small antechamber connected to the room proper. It acted as a makeshift airlock – hard to have a less subtle entrance than all the air being sucked out, practically pointing at him.

He placed his hand on the hologram and pressed his back to the wall when it slid open, also switching off the various lights on his suit. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before sliding around the corner and opening them again.

The room was unlike anything he'd yet seen, and he'd seen _a lot. _The lights were off entirely, so the chamber was only illuminated by two sources. First were the haywire gravity panels, likely from recent meteor strikes. As before, they violently expelled and absorbed gravitons (and maybe antigravitons, as well), creating fluctuating singularities and eerie white light. Several Necromorphs painted the ceiling, so he at least thanked the wanton destruction for putting them down. _Or up. _His jokes were a lot better without an audience.

The other was starlight streaming through large windows. This fell upon a computer at the room's far end, which was what he needed to redirect the power. All he had to do was traverse the labyrinth without dying. Of course, growling and sniffling emerged from the dark. Never could be simple.

Curtis jammed himself to the floor and crawled along, gently probing in front of him for any Corruption. There was probably some, and the last thing he needed was to traipse into the Necromroph equivalent of a tripwire. Fortunately, he'd been through this routine enough to know how stealth worked – flit to a dark corner when something approached, continue when it wandered off, rinse and repeat. He should have been a spy, for it worked well. Until…

_There you are, _"Nicole" said, appearing as a set of yellow glowing eyes at the far end. It didn't even pretend to be the real thing anymore. This depiction of her made him angrier, so the demon leaned into it. _You're insane, you know, and not just for seeing me. Repeating the same actions expecting different results? Well, that's not really the definition of madness, yet it's a good indicator. _It smiled from the dark, more tawny light pouring from between its fangs.

_You aren't a doctor. You're not even real. _The nonexistence of a spectral being would be obvious to most, but doubts lingered. How could he say specters were legend when ghouls roamed the halls?

_How am I not real? We're interacting right now. Your attention sustains me. _It had a point, but the thing was damn hard to ignore when it caused actual harm.

_So, what? You're Nicole's spirit? Her ghost? _The wolfish grin widened the closer he crept. He silently hoped the phantom would fade, but it looked like he'd have to confront it.

_I can't say whether souls are real; the Marker concerns itself with flesh and nothing more. Your memories are enough. I exist within you. That sack of meat you call a companion will never be whole again. Your culture and her grotesqueness will see to that. _"Make us whole". That seemed to be a whole motif with the Markers. It echoed through the halls and in his head, but the phrase was too esoteric to mean much. Still, he hazarded a guess – that it was a call to consumption and eventual Convergence.

_There's more to being a fulfilled person than being part of society. _While Curtis wanted more than anything to make friends and find belonging, he also found peace in his profession and hobbies. If he survived, he'd do his best to discover it elsewhere. _I can't speak for Nicole, but I've seen some of her memories, and I know what makes her happy. She's already whole, so shut your mouth, you lying bitch._

The smirk faded. The thing was angry.

A final flock of Swarmers (the little ones made from dislodged collagen) barred the path, so he gingerly tiptoed around them. "Nicole" stood before the terminal, cocking her head while showing off pallid, bloody skin. Framed by the light of stars, the apparition was otherworldly. _Well, Curtis, don't be shy._

Jumbles of nonsense ran rampant through his head. The Red Marker hammered itself against the already crumbling walls of his brain. They'd collapse soon enough. Steeling himself, he grunted and rebooted the system even as his head swirled. Wasn't very tough – Isaac told him all he needed to do was press a couple particular buttons – but the pounding in his skull made it feel like an awful hangover. Still, a holographic image of power flowing from one system to another indicated his success. Time to head back.

He turned around, already knowing what awaited him. Didn't expect it to knock him off his feet.

_As I and the Marker have said, your tenacity is incredible. Luck runs out on everyone, though. _Felt like his organs were being crushed, and he softly sputtered.

_What now? You're going to make me kill myself? _A final smile, and the coldest hands he'd ever felt gripped his face. Even through the helmet, he felt like it was exposed to solid vacuum. His eyes watered as its own moved closer – they were portals to dying suns and ancient quasars. He was on the verge of screaming from both terror and pain.

_A tempting offer, but I'm not whom you've wronged. _She grabbed his head and yanked it toward the room's opposite end. From this angle, he saw outlines of the many Necromorphs milling about. Some huddled in groups, communing with each other while others seemed content to remain in their own corners. Too bad they were directed to kill anyone and anything different.

_You're famous, you know. Word of your slaughter has travelled across the Ishimura. They know you as a faceless monster, gunning down the people who only want to help you ascend to a greater life. You've always craved recognition. So, I suppose it's not fame you've achieved, but infamy. How does it feel to be a craven butcher? _Honestly, it made him feel like shit. His actions may not have led to humanity's downfall – not yet – but they'd ideally render this new species extinct. He didn't have a choice, though. They didn't want peace; with a few exceptions, all chose destruction!

_You no longer have your friend to quiet the screaming in your mind. With that, I bid you farewell, Curtis._

What did it mean?! What did Nicole have to do with – he gasped and his heart fluttered when the pieces snapped together: Nicole kept him sane! His hallucinations hadn't been so intense since they "bonded". He didn't think much of it until now. Being a Necromorph, Nicole wasn't susceptible to the same madness that wracked the living. With their Link, her mind must have been a shield for his.

The effect wasn't as strong or foolproof as Lexine's own powers in that regard; rather, it was one of a hodgepodge of other abilities. Some of Marker signal slipped through the cracks, but not enough to drive him over the edge.

She stabbed him through the chest, making him scream. "Nicole" bared her teeth once more before disappearing. Heads turned toward him, and the brood charged. Curtis pulled up his legs and put his head between them. It'd take them several seconds to zigzag through the maze. Not much time, but enough to think. Not much to ponder, though. He had bountiful time to reflect on his pointless life, so that was behind him.

Should've been a good death.

_ **YOU CANNOT SURRENDER. PICK YOURSELF UP.** _

_Why do you care? _Yeah, he knew humanity was still in danger as long as the Red Marker existed. What he'd never asked was why the Black Marker gave a shit. Why would it sacrifice everything to help his species; they were like ants to it. _Pick someone else to be your champion. Millions of Unitologists would jump at the chance, and you don't think they're all bad._

_ **MY BROTHERS IMPOSE THEIR WILL ON THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE. IT IS UNCONCIOUSABLE. I CARE FOR THEM, YET I MUST FIGHT… MUCH LIKE YOUR FRIEND. IT WOULD BE UNWISE TO CHOOSE ONE OF MY WORSHIPPERS, FOR THEY WOULD BEND JUST AS EASILY TO MY BROTHERS.** _

Ah, so it was like Nicole. He called bullshit. She used to be a human being; how could a millennia-old rock possess the same morality? It tried to manipulate them. That last part made sense, though.

_ **I DO NOT KNOW EVERY HUMAN, BUT THERE ARE FEW WITH THE SAME MIXTURE OF DRIVE, WILLPOWER AND FLIPPANCE. MERELY BEAR IN MIND YOUR FRIEND – WHAT WOULD SHE THINK IF YOU DIED?** _

With that, the Marker's voice faded as the roars intensified. That was a cheap shot, reminding him of her. Something remained, though; his own voice, buried deep inside. It was odd to hear after the dozen speakers squabbling over him. He needed to live. Much as he wanted to escape, he had responsibilities: to himself, to humanity.

_To her._

The Marker was right. She was his best friend. Fighting for his species was too esoteric a concept to grasp, but surviving for the sake of his friend was something he fathomed. He didn't want to leave her alone.

What to do about it, though? His foes rounded the final corner – he had moments left. No time to think on his feet. That's why he whipped something up beforehand; foresight wasn't so bad. The moment he saw those windows, he knew he had an emergency exit.

Springing to his feet, he yanked the Line Gun off his back and emptied the clip into the translucent alloy. It cracked but didn't break until the wave crashed into him. The combined power of dozens slamming against the strained material did the trick.

A rush of air, and Curtis tumbled into space. The stars whirled overhead, trickling like butter as the Ishimura and Aegis VII sped across his vision. For once, he was glad to starve. Excitement and terror mixed as he straightened himself out, leveling off and flying back. He'd never been unanchored in open vacuum before. The isolation crushed him, as did the fear. The Red Marker's response was rather amusing despite the pain it inflicted.

_ **DIE! DIE! PERISH, PATHETIC MAGGOT!** _

The aura of sophistication and intensity it tried to cultivate toppled again. Pissing this thing off never got old, especially since it could devise no better insult than things like "maggot" in its rage. Made him feel a little better after its devastating "I'll be able to feel it if you fuck Nicole" line. He got the impression it was "young" for a Marker, if age meant anything to them.

Entering through the window again, he was glad to not find more Necromorphs waiting for him. On edge, he traversed the gauntlet of faulty gravity panels, reaching the antechamber airlock a few seconds before his air ran out. He felt himself smile despite the screaming.

_I hope Nicole's OK._

**14 Hours Post-Outbreak**

The pounding and screaming in Curtis' head finally abated as he reached the very top deck, their rendezvous point. That didn't quell his fears, though. Those would only be abolished once he saw her. Maybe not even then, for the ship jangled like a cheap house he used to live in. Shitty place, but he loved it when it rained. Hearing the drops clatter so loudly against the cheap roof always lifted his spirits in spike of the leaks. Too bad that the hailstones dropping down now threatened all of existence.

He stepped into the dark subdeck. Couldn't tell the difference anymore as he sped down the hall and over plats of Corruption.

_We're just around the corner, _Nicole thought, though he didn't dare stop until he rounded it. This might be another trick!

Once he did, the full force of her mind hit him. Again, that normally hurt even when "speaking" to a "friendly" clairvoyant – and he still wasn't convinced the Black Marker had humanity's best interests in mind. Nicole was different. Her consciousness was something he could handle. While smart, she wasn't a fucking celestial or eldritch being. More than that, their minds interlocked despite the difficulties incurred. It was cheesy to say, but it almost felt like they were made for each other.

_I agree, _she thought while flashing a smile. _We've had bumps, but our Bond is stronger and steadier than I thought possible. _Warmth flowed through her, a feeling he sorely missed after being lashed by freezing cold and blazing heat. She was his only source of comfort and sanity for light-years, and he wouldn't leave her side until he was back in Sol.

Isaac crouched in a particularly dark corner, soldering something into place. Small sparks flew from the tool in his hands, painting the blackness yellow and orange for brief moments.

_Did you have a good time? _he asked.

She nodded, and a few images of them battling Necromorphs and chatting made him happy. Really, it made him glad that she was able to reconnect with her boyfriend. He reluctantly showed her his own memories, which weren't nearly as encouraging for her. _Stay with me from now on, _she requested. _I don't want "her" coming back._

"Give me a second," the man muttered. A final tangerine blaze made the wires he dissected jolt, and a door opened. "Got it!"

Only then did Curtis realize he was at the edge of the ship. The door was an airlock – the very airlock he and Nathan harrowed to deactivate the cannon. Now he was back with another set of allies, and he silently asked the Black Marker to keep them safe. A pang in the back of his head was good encouragement from his patron, even if it couldn't change reality to keep them safe.

Nice as it was to be around people again, this was no time for a reception. He cracked his neck, which hurt like a bitch, before they all crossed the divide.

A faint bloodstain remained where he and Nathan bled across mottled metal. That blood was the only thing left of his friend, besides the haunting memories, of course. The hatch behind them whirled shut just as the one before them spiraled open.

_Nicole! _He seized her by the forearm so she didn't float away into eternity. She didn't have grav-boots or thrusters! When his eyes followed a moment later, he saw her claws firmly lodged in the ground. Oh. He always forgot she could do that.

_I'm fine, Curtis, _she rolled her eyes and cracked another of her lovely smiles, serrated denticles glimmering brightly, _but I appreciate your concern. You said you weren't a good person, but would someone bad be so concerned? _That depended on his motives. _You're not interested in me just for my flesh. I see things in you that you can't see yourself. Trust me. If you weren't a good man before, you are one now._

Wow. The praise made his face warm within the already steamy helmet. Speaking of steam, the water in her flesh began to evaporate from being below of Armstrong limit, though most was already gone from the fire. The sensation was absolutely alien to him – he'd already be dead if it was him in the vacuum. It somehow felt like he was being microwaved, though it wasn't painful. Just… _weird. _Kind of an honor to being subjected to such bizarre perceptions. Nobody else had ever felt like this before.

Those fuzzy feelings shrank when he noticed a particular scar in the metal. Most signs of his epic battle with the Spider had been scoured away by the increasing haze of micrometeorites and dust, but this one remained: a long, bony spike dug deep into the deck, and hazy scorch marks beside it. Nathan's hand still floated in the vacuum somewhere, never to be found.

Suddenly, Curtis caught a glimpse of something. _Multiple _somethings. High in the "air", they were attached to the cannon battery. _What are those? _Wasn't until they squirmed that he recognized them as Necromorphs with things detaching from them.

"Get down!" he yelled to Isaac over RIG-Link. Nicole needed such words, ducking behind one of the irregular structures filling the trench. Didn't know what these were, but they worked great as shields! The three squeezed behind it just as a hail of explosives pelted their position. They tore through metal, splintering into bony scalpels upon impact. While not a military expert in any sense, they reminded him more of traditional fragmentation grenades rather than the incendiary napalm that Exploders, Brutes and Crawlers were filled with.

OK, this would be more difficult than he thought! It was a couple hundred feet to the opposite end, and they had four minutes of air left.

"We have to split up," he acknowledged. "They'll be more confused and have less time to attack each of us separately than if we're in a group." The shells were too numerous and dispersed to reliably stasis, and there weren't any large, free-floating objects to utilize as safeguards via kinesis. His companions expressed their agreement. Perhaps Nicole was correct when she said he could pull stuff out of his ass that actually worked.

With that, he vaulted over the cover, expelling puffs of air to accelerate him from one bizarre contraption to another. The projectiles homed in, to his terror and dismay, but the effect was very slight, considering they moved so quickly and lacked an atmosphere to maneuver in.

Even without the Necromorphs, this was a goddamn nightmare. The mortar battery was framed against Aegis VII like an ancient priest venerating an evil god. The edges of the planet still burned from the light of its suns behind, appearing to be aflame with the dust-choked halo. Asteroids bore down from the upper right, their numbers blotting out the sky. Necromorphs were the least apocalyptic thing here.

His glimpses of the unknown creatures became more detailed and conclusive as they slowly bridged the gap. They grew in large blobs of Corruption, which were shaped unsettlingly like a woman's vulva. Bloated forms burst from within, the bottom halves molded into the flesh, but the top parts maintained a vaguely human shape, save for the limbs, which had been replaced with familiar throbbing pustules.

Their whole bodies were marred with hundreds of holes from which the projectiles flew like murderous insects from a hive. The worst part was their jerky, spasming movements, which evoked those waving tube men from used car lots. He guessed that their function of protecting certain key areas gave them roles similar to Guardians, but optimized for zero-g. _"Nest", _he thought, staring closely at the insufflating cavities. _Good name for these disgusting things._

Nicole helped a lot – she knew their thoughts and what they'd do before it happened. In turn, she told him, giving him a degree of precognition. How crazy was that?! He evaded the projectiles almost without effort while Isaac struggled along. Telepathy and now future sight. All he needed was telekinesis to be a full-blown psychic. It still scared him, but he wouldn't be alive without these gifts and Nicole's ability to quash his madness in its tracks.

"Isaac, Curtis," Hammond crackled in his helmet once they were halfway, "you still with us?"

"Barely," Isaac replied as they all slowly thudded across the hull. Curtis' heart irregularly pounded, and his chest ached from the sheer trauma his organs had gone through. If he didn't let up, he'd have a fucking hernia.

"Good. I'm tracking the meteor storm. We have _maybe _five minutes. Get to the cannon and turn it on; that should reboot the whole system."

"We're dealing with our own problems!" He dove to the side as another supersonic razor flew past his head. A single hit would tear any of them to pieces. "We'll radio in once we're across."

Almost there. Suddenly, he sensed danger, diving just out of another organic missile's path. _How did… _Nicole gave a massive, ridiculous thumbs-up from behind her own cover. _Damn. _She somehow managed to tap into his nervous system, protecting him from harm. Reminded him of that old comic book character and his "danger sense". Spider-Man or something like that.

From there, it wasn't too difficult. They made it to the opposite side, and while they'd had some close calls, none of them got hurt. Isaac laid down some suppressing fire while he opened the airlock, and they all rushed in, dishing out high-fives. The battery was exactly the same. Dull metal with a few shells scattered about. Not much to it.

"All right, here we go." Isaac walked up to the primary control panel and reset the system. "That… should… do it." Indeed, it did something, though not quite what he expected. The flaccid cannon indeed drifted to life, but it was askew, tilting to one side or another. Huh.

"Is it supposed to do that?" Nicole asked.

"I don't think so. What's it look like on your end, Hammond?" No response. "Hammond, you there?" Just heavy breathing. A pit grew in Curtis' gut; the asteroids were the size of peas now. They had maybe a minute.

"There's something wrong," Hammond said gravely. "The autotargeting is shot. It's a faulty data cable." His breathing grew heavy. Curtis' stomach dropped. Nicole's mind fizzled. That was it. Without the targeting, the ADS was about as competent as a blind archer. They were going to die in that little room. Hopefully it'd take the Marker down with them. They stood transfixed; their eyes were glued to the approaching army.

"I can fix it," Isaac said. His voice was worried, but a hint of confidence was within. That gave him some hope. If anyone could solve this, it was him.

"You aren't here."

"I know, but I'll walk you through it." He turned to them. "You two work together better than any people I've ever met. Get on the gun. Buy me time."

It just might work. This first round of meteors approached dead-on, so most could be destroyed by this particular mass driver. Isaac was a top-notch engineer, and Hammond was competent in his own right. He didn't kid himself about their chances. Shooting rocks impelling toward them at dozens of feet per second required a level of skill and accuracy no human possessed. It'd be like getting 30 consecutive bullseyes during target practice; nobody could pull it off. AIs may not have been sentient, but they could aim if programmed competently!

As he looked at Nicole, though, he _knew_ they had a shot. She wasn't quite human, after all. He was a seasoned miner, and he knew asteroids as well as most people knew their families – they were practically _his. _And while Nicole's precognitive abilities may not have extended to random rocks, her reflexes and general sense of direction were perfectly honed, as one would expect of a consummate hunter. If they worked together, they had a chance, however slim, so overcome. Her train of thought arrived at the same station.

"We're on it." The idea of dying to the subject of his profession offended him, so he was excited to get cracking. They slid into the two seats, one for each barrel, and looked at each other.

Nicole's mind mingled with his, giving another hit of warming light. For just a moment, he saw himself through her four eyes. He didn't realize until then how differently she perceived the world. Her eyes gave a wider field of vision, which he now shared, and it was fractured and fragmented like an insect's; he saw himself a thousand times in colors he couldn't imagine. She could even sense light sources in ultraviolet and infrared! Her mind must have compiled this into something "normal", but it made his head spin from just that brief glimpse.

_I forgot how limiting human vision is, _she thought. She pitied him. Imagine that, a zombie feeling sorry for a regular human! _I do… but maybe that's good. We have different perspectives. _True. Their synergy hinged on harnessing each other's strengths. And, as their adventure ejecting radioactive ore proved, there could be friendly competition between a human and a Necromorph.

The strange tingling once again engulfed him. _Oh, not again._

000

Nicole slumped in her bunk, appreciating the sound of the subluminal engines. Though she wasn't an engineer or mechanic, she'd spent enough time on ships and space stations to learn the various subtleties of different engine types. Fascinating subjects, those. She sighed and rolled over, unable to trick herself into being entertained. Man, this was a lame job!

She thought a stint with the Merchant Marines would be exciting. Far less baggage than joining other parts of the military, and it'd be nice to help the soldiers putting their lives on the line for humanity. Most were polite, though some clearly drank the EarthGov Kool-Aid about "securing human expansion" and whatnot.

Not as bad as Unitologists, at least… though, of course, there were good ones. Surprising number in medicine. It confounded her how some people were intelligent enough to replace an organ yet still believed in a geophysicist who received divine revelation from a pointy rock.

She rolled over. The sooner they got to Borealis, the sooner she could get back to Sol. After that… she didn't know. Funny. She wasn't even middle-aged, yet most of her ambition was gone. Over the past decade and change, she'd worked at a half-dozen hospitals in Sol and beyond.

It seemed like she was looking for something she could never quite find. Not until now, at least.

His name was Isaac. An engineer they met at the dinner table; non-soldiers in the Merchant Marine generally sat together to keep each other company. From the look in his eyes, she knew he'd fallen for her that moment. Usually a red flag, but he was so genuine and charming. Though she wanted to be cautious – it might have been the isolation and boredom getting to her

There was also her nurse/personal assistant, Perry. Great guy, and they'd had a ton of fun at ship vid nights. They'd even started talking about working together in the future; they just worked well together. Honestly, she'd have been interested in _him _if he swung her way. Overall, she was a very lucky woman.

Though he didn't say it, Isaac was clearly worried about Perry – worried he'd be "competition", given that they spent so much time together. She assuaged his fears by assuring him her friend was gay, and that calmed him right down.

It was so strange. She was a 36-year-old woman and had never felt like this before. The guy was a decade her senior, but she didn't care about that. He was sweet (if gruff), and the age gap was _just _thin enough to not raise eyebrows. Yeah, she'd been in casual relationships, and they were fun, but they never lasted. Isaac was serious, and she liked that. She was usually a no-nonsense person. However, it seemed they could both be goofy in the right situations, which she liked.

The two of them had a little "date" later on that "night". Day and night meant nothing in space, and she'd hardly call karaoke in front of drunken marines a tryst. Lots of quotations and half-truths there. Ah, well. She was excited. Maybe they'd really hit it off. Before then though, she needed some rest.

Sighing, she rolled onto her side to try and get some sleep before the big event…

000

This time, Nicole actually slapped him, waking him up a little early. This time, he sensed embarrassment, and for good reason. Remembering Nicole have sex with Isaac (and practically being her, at that) was the _last _thing he wanted! _Pretend that never happened! I can feel your end of the Bond settling. Soon, that'll start happening to me. _What juicy bits of his life would she see, he genuinely wondered. Didn't exactly have many except the ones with her.

He tightened the grip of his mind around hers, ignoring the pain, which was less than it had been. He flipped on the system, and a small holographic placard cropped up. **"85% Ship-wide Hull Integrity," **it said. A good amount of the vessel was already depressurized.

"OK, Hammond, here's what you do…" Isaac stepped into a corner to provide technical expertise while the first asteroids rolled in. They had advanced warning, for ice and stone now blotted out the stars. That scantly prepared them for the bombardment.

A missile salvo rocked the Ishimura, throwing them back in their seats. The cheery 85% dropped to 84%. Another percent of the ship destroyed and holed by the very planet they exploited. Death by many quick cuts awaited while concern engulfed them – Nicole feared for her family while Curtis feared for _her._

"A little more effort, please!" Isaac shouted before turning back to his lecture. The next barrage came, his eyes going wide as they sped forward.

_We can do this, _they thought simultaneously. What happened in that instant was nothing short of a miracle. Their bodies acted as one, his knowledge of minerals and her surgical accuracy combining. With the shifting of a joystick and the pull of a trigger, and the cannon swung to the left before discharging a volatile shell. Accelerated to a fraction of lightspeed by magnetic fields from the coilgun, the asteroid went up in a silent explosion of light and plasma.

"Yes!" he gasped, and Nicole's normally collected consciousness flared with excitement.

Things got tenser as the minutes flowed together. He didn't blink once, wholly focused on the deadly equivalent of an arcade game. In the ones he hung out in as a teen, there were often "vintage" sections dedicated to showcasing the primitive games of centuries before. He particularly enjoyed the 23rd Century's products. The music of the era may have been ear-bleeding and awful, but the game design was surprisingly solid. There was this one particular cabinet called "Asteroids" or something, itself an overhaul of a game from the goddamn 1900s! This reminded him of that, right down to the joystick controls.

They leapt from one to another, him pointing out weak spots or fractures in the rock that could be impacted for maximum damage. The swarm got denser by the second, but so did their skill. The voices in his head didn't budge his laser focus. It was just him, Nicole, the mortar and the space rocks. That was all he needed. Even so, the number in the corner trickled down across minutes. 82. 81. Every one they missed became a wound in the metal, venting air into space unless the sealant grids held.

Isaac was shouting now, but he didn't seem angry – more like a particularly intense personal trainer. The number slowly ticked down. 78 now. Though that might have seemed high, the ship didn't just explode if it reached zero. It was how much of the vessel had been structurally compromised. A hit to the engines or fusion center would doom them all regardless of the big picture.

76\. 75. A quarter of the ship had been holed, and his heart pounded. _Kendra? Kyne? _Did they still live, or had nature taken its toll on their habitats?

Suddenly, the cannon started moving on its own accord! He panicked, trying to tear the system from its malfunction or the Marker's control! Couldn't let his friend die, damn it! This wasn't –

Calming thoughts flowed into him from her. _It's over, Curtis. We did it. _Oh. Of course. He'd almost forgotten that was the plan. He turned to see his friend excitedly bouncing in her seat, high off their success and interfacing with someone else after being deprived of that contact for so long. _That… felt good, _she thought as they dismounted the cannon. By now, the autotargeting was in full swing, swatting down comets with efficacy that put them to shame. In conjunction with dozens of others across the superstructure, they would be fine.

Isaac walked over to them, thumping his chest with excitement.

"Curtis, Nic…" he caught himself before he actually said her name. "Whoever you are, thank you. You saved my life again. I'm grateful." He sniffled, and Curtis did the same.

"We'd be just as dead without you fixing the autotargeting," he replied. They really were a great team. He glanced at the window again, happy to see the space around the ship looking much thinner.

"Curtis? Hammond? Isaac? You there?" Kendra's voice came from Isaac's chest. To his surprise, he was actually glad to hear it again – he couldn't handle his poor shooting cost anyone else their lives. "The storm cut off my comms."

"We're here," Isaac responded, a smile patently obvious under his mask. "How's the Executive Shuttle?"

"Getting better. Thanks for those schematics you spun me; not an engineer, but I've been able to get a few things done with them. There're some pretty serious components I'll need, but we'll deal with that later." She sighed.

"What's the problem now?" Isaac asked, mirthless but not angry. Good, he was getting used to the crippling disappointment!

"Oxygen levels are falling. Something's poisoning air production. O2 is being replaced with CH4: methane." OK, _that _was something he didn't see coming. Far more interesting than dealing with these more mundane concerns. It would also take them back to a place he'd never really been to before – the final deck of the ship he'd only minimally set foot on, well before all Hell broke loose.

"Hydroponics?"

"Yeah. We're going to run out of air in a few hours. However, I'm pretty sure we can kill… _whatever _is doing this. It'll require chemicals, though. A lot of them. Most should be on Medical."

"Goddamn it! Will this never end?!" Hammond shouted from their shared vid-log. "All of you, go back to Medical and mix together whatever Kendra's come up with. I'm done sitting on my ass. I'll clean up here and head to Hydroponics. If I can slow it down, that might keep us breathing long enough to fight it."

Curtis sighed as he opened the door to oblivion, and they all strode back out. He was barely aware of the Nests behind him with their projectiles being shot down by the ADS. Something else concerned him, though, and he felt that concern shared by Nicole.

Isaac said "Nicole" waited for him on that deck. What would they find there, he wondered? And what if there was more to the hallucination than he knew?


	20. KIA

**14 Hours, 15 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Another long-ass ride to Medical. Nicole hoped it would be the last. Her friends were sedated, catching relatively peaceful sleeps off the high of their victories. Both were perpetually exhausted by now, lapsing into slumber the moment their asses hit the seats. These 10 or 15-minute jaunts were the only chances Isaac and Curtis had to rest. She couldn't see into the former's head, but the latter dreamed.

The two of them (with her in her current form) promenaded through a garden like the ones of ancient Earth. Just the two of them, stopping to smell roses and thoughtlessly chatter. Eventually, they laid back on the soft grass and watched clouds float overhead. With their vastly different hands tucked into each other, he planted a soft kiss on her skull's bony plating. In turn, she pulled him into a deep embrace. Almost choked her up! Though he didn't realize it, he loved her for whom she was, not just her body. He admired her intelligence, which was frankly something he lacked, as she cherished his tenacity, dedication and love for his friends.

She pursed her mandibles and turned away. Even if she reciprocated such feelings… and she wasn't sure she did… Isaac was the man for her. He'd already said he was no longer interested, yet they'd gotten along fine. Eventually, she'd break through his delusions and make him believe she was the person she claimed to be. If he still rejected her, it would break her heart, but at least she'd know the sentiment came from him and not dementia. Until then, she remained faithful.

The joys of dreaming were lost to her, for she no longer slept. Like a machine, she now "turned off" to more easily be "recharged" by the Red God's carrier waves. What happened during these times, she had no clue. Maybe her unconscious intellect wandered the infinite web of the hive mind, or perhaps her creator brought her back to itself. She didn't particularly care; her nocturnal fantasies were rarely pleasant. Always worrying about future jobs and disasters, as Curtis saw. Now she did that well enough awake.

It made sense that she'd appear in his fancies, given their inextricable link. They were Bonded – capital "B". To her, it was part of her physiology, but Curtis found it worthy of a proper noun. They were tied together in a way two humans never could be. For better or worse, he'd never be alone. While that was natural for her – even now, the voices of her brothers and sisters hummed in her head – humans weren't made the same way. She dearly hoped he adapted, but their differences made that difficult. Still, she was dedicated to helping in any way she could.

The tram skidded to a halt as it thudded into Hydroponics. They'd be back soon enough. Curtis was utterly unfazed, continuing to bask in wonderful vision, but Isaac jolted awake. Stretching, he yawned wide, the action making his jaw pop.

"Ow," he whispered, not wanting to disturb his friend. Yeah, friend. Isaac was never a "people person", but these were incredible circumstances. She was glad two largely isolated individuals forged a connection after an initial rough patch. Sighing, he stood up and shot a glance at her. For once, it wasn't tainted with distrust or hatred.

"Uh, may I join you?" he asked. For a second, she thought her mind played tricks on her. Only when she looked again at his stoic face was it real.

"Of course," she replied, trying to mask her excitement. Their little journey through the Bridge together went well. He better understood her inability to kill Necromorphs once she explained her psychology, being able to feel their deaths, and how destroying sentient beings (no matter how feral they appeared to outsiders) would spit in the faces of all the oaths she'd taken. Still, she hadn't expected him to volitionally approach her again.

He plopped down beside her, a mirthless smile on his face. "This – this is fucked," he said, "but I'm happy to be alive. Amazing that I am." He furtively glanced at her. "I never thanked you for saving me. Not really."

"It's fine, Isaac," she purred, nearly touching his face but holding back at the last second. The scent of his musk mixed with that of oil and vapor, creating a scent both familiar and alien to her sensitive nose.

"No, it's not fine," he spat, lips quivering. "You've pulled my ass out of the fire multiple times, but I didn't realize until it was literal. You burned for me." He reached out, gently stroking a charred part of her face. It didn't hurt; nothing did anymore. She could slice off an arm and not really be pained. Therefore, all she experienced was immense gratitude, for she never thought he would touch her like this again.

She loved him. Her soul screamed as she wrestled inside, trying to reconcile these wildly disparate feelings. She was dead and living, a person and a monster, a predator yet wholly vulnerable in such moments. She remembered the slow, sensuous nights they used to have, looking back on them with nostalgia and nothing more. Being asexual now, she believed she could never truly love anyone again!

Curtis stirred from psychic waves battering the shores of his pleasant dreams, so she forced her attention away from angst. Why should he suffer for her own insecurities? A few seconds later, he drifted back to a world where all these contradictions made sense. She was hideous by all accounts, yet he found her beautiful. Living and dead made no real difference. A Necromorph had purpose beyond slaving for an evil god.

"I signed up for this mission to find Nicole," he continued, barely holding back tears. She didn't have to worry about that, though she placed a hand on his thigh. "The love of my life and my best friend. Thank you for giving me that chance." The pensive grin returned. He was _so close _to putting it together and breaking through his self-imposed denial. She knew he would before too long. "Thank you so much," he cried, "but I'm scared I'll never see her again."

"You're welcome, Isaac. I'd do it all over, and we'll find her together." They sat comforting each other the trolley skimmed along. Her only regret was that she couldn't Bond with him like she did with Curtis, couldn't protect or console him the same way.

She didn't notice the miner staring at them until just before they arrived. His mind was so stilled that he needed to wave to draw her attention. Her gaze snapped to him, and she felt like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar. She'd flirted with him, after all.

_I'm happy for you, _he thought, trying to force himself to mean it. _I really hope you two can love each other again. _Envy was buried deep inside his words, though it was largely drowned by impenetrable shame. The inner voice was distilled with guilt over wanted anything else. _And I'm a terrible person for wanting otherwise._

_You're not a terrible person, _she chided him. This began to get annoying, yet she couldn't blame him after flashes of his past imprinted into her. She saw a man who beat himself up over perceived failures and needed validation (though at the same time, contact risked people not liking him). Decades of neglect left him emotionally vulnerable and confused. Nicole would learn more once fresh, complete memories reached her instead of these fragments, but he was complex. _You're someone who needs a lot of help – now more than ever._

He sighed and shook his head. _Fine. I'll trust what you're saying. You're smarter than I am. _Intelligence versus wisdom. She didn't need to retread that, especially once they reached their terminal. "Terminal". Such an appropriate word. The gondola hemmed its way in before collapsing against the rails.

It had only been three hours since they last set foot in the station, but so much changed. The lights had been extinguished, for example. Even she would have had difficulty seeing were it not for artificial candles and emergency flares littering the ground. They burned various shades of red, so this wasn't much of a departure.

The crucified collagen had been cut down or escaped, but stringy residue still clung to the wall. Crusty as it was, it looked like the inside of some cursed mausoleum.

What disturbed her most of all was the message carved into the ground. The "have hope, all ye blah blah blah" had been amended with a scrawled footnote that plunged her into ice.

**WELCOME HOME, NICOLE**

"Looks like that Mercer guy is alive," Isaac muttered. Yeah… She looked up at a nearby security camera, somehow knowing he watched through it. Snarling, she put a talon to her throat and ran it back and forth.

She sniffed the air for signs of him. The pungent bouquet of bad cologne lingered, but it was overpowered by a new miasma that wafted from the vents. _Must be what Kendra warned us about. _Most was methanol, yes, but there were substantial amounts of other organic gaseous compounds, methane most prominently. It wasn't thick enough yet to pose a danger to her friends, and she said as much. Curtis' mind quickly contracted before he acknowledged they had time.

_How much? _he asked. _Can you tell?_

_I don't know, _she admitted. This was far afield from her expertise. _But it shouldn't be fatal until it reaches concentrations great enough for you to smell. If you don't smell alcohol, you're fine. _Curtis took a hesitant whiff of the air, which stirred as the trolley bumbled away. Mysterious mist carried forward, and the candles flickered.

"What's the plan?" Isaac asked. As the one most familiar with the deck's layout, the responsibility fell on her. She directed Curtis to pull up a map from his holo-projector and began to explain.

"That room there is the Chemistry Lab," she said while pointing at a smaller area not near much of anything. It'd be a decent walk. The layout of this place still confounded her. After 62 years in service, the layout might have changed a dozen times, especially for decks like Crew and Medical where the important stuff was possible to move. "It stores samples of every chemical and compound aboard. Everything from toxic elements to pesticides to tranquilizers.

Nicole paused, suddenly curious and concerned. How did Kendra, a computer technician, formulate a Necromorph-killing serum? She always somehow seemed to be one step ahead of everyone else. From what Hammond and Isaac said, this was her first mission with the CEC – hadn't been with them long. The situation made her suspicious, though she didn't know of what.

She shook her head. Didn't matter. More pressing concerns were at hand, and not just her family.

"Mercer's been monitoring our communications. I suspected it before, but that's proof." She pointed at her name chiseled into the floor, which made her and Curtis both internally shiver. "I'm certain he'll have some surprises in store." Tricks, traps, whatever. Like Kyne, Nicole suspected the mad doctor still lived because of his usefulness to the Red God. With him creating immensely strong Necromorphs, sabotaging systems and nearly getting them killed, he was worth more alive than dead… for now. Of course, he seemed more than willing to shuffle off the mortal coil once called. "Be ready."

000

A smile grew on Curtis' face as he weaved through the night as bright as day. The streets shrieked with blaring cars blasting past at 100 miles per hour and thumping club music. His nose twitched as peddlers sold fried soy and scraps of real meat. Opulent skyscrapers towered over scrappy buildings, rich and poor mingling at just past midnight. The North Carolina Hubs never slept. Since New York and Washington were eaten by the ravenous Atlantic, his city supplanted them as the premiere center of art and culture in the eastern part of the United States Sector.

That was the nonsense he learned in school, at least. Didn't give a shit how the city came to be, only that it existed and that it was open… to all ages. Reaching up, he gave the moustache and beard he'd cultivated one final brush before deciding they were sufficient. The gel started to run in the hot, humid weather, but it would have to do.

Though he was only 15 years old, the platform shoes and groomed facial hair made him look old enough to be 21. And if the bouncers didn't believe it, he had a fake ID to convince them! So many options! His eyes scanned the dozens of bars, strip joints and flesh-peddling businesses that lined the main drag of the Hubs' red-light district. His "parents" didn't care where he went, so he could stay out as late as he wanted! The 100 credits he'd saved from doing odd jobs around his neighborhood would hopefully be enough for admission to any establishment.

Man, his friends at school would be so jealous when he told them about this! Well, he didn't have any friends, but this would be a springboard to make some. Maybe it'd also get him a booty call if one of the girls at wherever he went was _really _impressed. His mouth literally watered, not caring how unrealistic these things were, and his ego ballooned as he thought about all the great stuff awaiting him. This was his one night until he scraped together another 100 creds, which could take months!

He picked out a club at the very middle of the strip: a shining, opulent building that pumped golden light into the ashen smog. **"Real girls!" **the spinning holo-sign on the roof proclaimed. **"We don't use Peng here!" **Well, he'd never used that, either – restricted for "adult use" only. He never understood why. What was the problem with fucking women who weren't even real?

Confident, he saddled into the line, awash in alcohol and the tang of illicit substances, and shuffled up to the bouncer when it was his turn.

"ID," he demanded, and Curtis wordlessly slid it over. An amused smirk crossed the enormous man's thick face. "Come with me," he said, and pride surged in Curtis' chest. He was getting the VIP treatment! Others softly laughed behind him, probably jealous of the special conduct. Being scarcely half this guy's height, the giant crouched and pointed through opened doors. Curtis felt his jaw drop like a cartoon character at the sights.

Nearly nude women (and a couple of men) danced on poles while exotic drinks were ferried about to sumptuous guests. While he knew deep down there was nothing magical about it, it seemed a pocket of transcendent fantasy, a portal to another world. And it was all his!

"Want to go in?" the guard asked.

"Yeah," the boy said, trying to compose himself. Well, he wasn't a boy any longer. He was about to be a man!

"Then come back when you're 21." Curtis was so shocked that he couldn't fight back when the man lifted him up and plopped him down across the barriers. The people laughed again. He realized they were laughing at him. "The city gives us shit when we let underaged drinking and sex fly. Every place up and down the block can tell you're a kid. Why don't you go back to the arcades for a few more years?"

Throwing his hands up, Curtis fumed as he stormed into the zesty, living night. At least the guy was nice enough to not give him a boot to the ass like bouncers in vids. Still, he raged at the injustice! Age was just a number – who were they to call him a child after all he'd been through?! Did any of those "adults" have to deal with people he barely knew hitting him when he spoke out of turn, or the worst school in the city not even trying to give him an education?! It was stupid, but he was at the edge of crying.

"Hey, cutie," said a gorgeous woman who walked up to him through the smog-slicked pavement. She had shoulder-length black tresses and skin like ivory. Both were almost certainly artificial, but that didn't matter. In an instant, his disappointment and sadness turned to excitement again. "I saw what happened back there. Too much of a man for those boys?"

His jaw was on the floor, and little hearts flew around his vision. For the first time in his life, he was head over heels in love. Nothing like the silly crushes he had on girls in school. This was clearly a sophisticated adult woman, and if _she _praised him in such a way… well, he didn't have to worry ever again! Unable to form words, he nodded like a moron, suddenly fearful of embarrassing himself in front of this bombshell!

Instead, though, she laughed. Not from condescension, but something genuine and bubbly. Bending down, she said, "Come with me, hot stuff" in a voice like honey. He was an aroused teenager in the thrall of a gorgeous woman. Powerless to resist, she practically led him by the boner down an alley, which drew no concern at all. Who was he to judge where this fine lady of the night dwelled?

A couple more turns, and she stopped. He knew where this went. The stench of sewer and garbage may as well have been lilacs as he slicked back his hair and puckered his lips. He expected a heated make-out session, but those feelings (and his dick) withered as what he got instead was a blade in the gut. Tremoring, he slowly opened his eyes. The woman they fell upon looked the same but was somehow manifestly not.

"You're gonna give me all the money you have in that RIG or I'll gut you like a fish, you little perv." Oh. He was being mugged. So disheartened by this revelation was he that he didn't try to run or fight back, merely spinning the money she demanded to her account. He couldn't be the first guy she'd done this to…

"100 creds? Not bad. Word of advice, kid: if someone makes you an offer that's too good to be true…" His heart stopped and he peed a little as she bent over, sensually putting her teeth to his ear. Wasn't out of arousal this time, though. He feared the next sentence might be the last he ever heard. "…it probably is. No such thing as a free lunch."

With that, she threw her hair back and walked away with a final wink. Then she was gone, probably off to find another kid to con.

Curtis stood in the dank canyon, knowing it was a lesson he'd never forget.

**14 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

The trip to the Chemistry Lab was shockingly uneventful. No ambushes and no surprises except the vision she'd had of Curtis' childhood. Now she saw where his inferiority complex and awkwardness around attractive women came from. She normally would have abhorred such behavior, but he was a child and still taken advantage of. Wasn't always so street-smart. Honestly, it made her sad, though she kept those feelings to herself to not drag him down.

Everyone was on pins and needles despite the lack of action. It couldn't be so easy. Mercer must have cooked something. Was it the Hunter? Some new creation? They couldn't underestimate the jackal. Candles and flares were clues; they were sprinkled along the path like breadcrumbs. Whenever she thought they ended, more red eyes lit the way. Just a minute later, they arrived.

A holographic image of a begloved hand holding a vial of some blue liquid marked the entrance, along with dozens of warnings and hazard labels about the contents of said lab. Ravenous as he was, Curtis thought it looked like Blue Giant Berry Blast SUN Cola – a name so ridiculous she chuckled, which earned a feeling of happiness from her friend.

She ran a hand across the unassuming door. A long time ago, when she was human, she tried to deduce a cure for the pathogen here. It was noble work, but if only she knew how fruitless it was to thwart the will of a god, she might have spent her final hours not drowning in worry.

_At least you tried, even if it didn't work, _Curtis thought. _You did your best. You're a hero in my book. _Her response was a cat-like purr. She'd produced it a few times before, and even she couldn't explain it. It was like… an expression of pure happiness, something that only came from their connection. Her link with the rest of the hive mind was beautiful, but she was "born" with that. No exertion was required.

What she had with Curtis, as she'd discerned from tapping into her ancestral memories, was exceedingly isolated – one-in-a-billion or so. Both fought tooth and nail for their Link. Toil brought greater understanding. This was a battle, and, as Nathan said, it left them more meshed than vast majority of Necromorphs were to each other. That Bond would deepen as they grew closer. It'd only been a few hours, unbelievable as that seemed. Who knew what months or years brought? Hopefully it wouldn't hurt him.

_You never will, _he assured her. _It's scary for me, too, but we're going to make it._

She wasn't sure she believed it, but he did. With that encouragement, they entered.

It was unremarkable: a small room with sealed containers of various liquids and gasses, as well as the standard suite of NoonTech microscopes and diagnostic tools. Besides the pervasive Corruption and poor lighting, it looked untouched by the madness… except for the candles. They sat on every table and across the floor. At first, it unnerved her, but then she saw the fiery words they spelled. No longer was she unsettled. She was disgusted.

**HELLO, LOVELY**

Mercer watched them. The mind of another Necromorph, though it tried to hide from her, was near. She knew it. He knew she knew it. Curtis was deeply unsettled by her rage and confusion while Isaac grabbed the compounds they needed. They were nicely labelled, after all!

"We need to leave," she said the moment he grabbed the last of them. "We have to get out."

Whirling around, she was disheartened but not surprised to see the door locked down, its normally cyan ring turned magenta.

"Your struggle for survival is admirable, but pointless and misguided. It almost makes me think we had hope as a species." A thudding sound emerged from behind, and she whirled around. Mercer stood behind a thick pane of glass previously encased with a steel shutter. It was the observation area, sealed from the rest of the room. A smug, sadistic smile adorned his ugly mug while layers of blood and dirt sullied his smock.

"Am I the only one who sees we died out a long time ago? We just haven't accepted it yet. Stop running. Stop fighting. It ends here." Given their past, it took a great deal of effort to remain calm, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of losing her cool. Curtis and Isaac were put-off but not terrified of the man, considering it wasn't obvious to them how he'd hurt them. He seemed to look right through her and squarely at her friends, though.

"Nothing's ending," she stated. "Actually, you will." Witticisms didn't help their situation, though she hoped they might perturb their enemy. No dice. Mercer instead turned his iron eyes to her, and the gaze tightened her like a vice.

"Dr. Brennan. Or Nicole, whichever you prefer. I'd like to think we're on a first-name basis by now, considering how well we know each other. You look lovely today." She steamed inside, giving Curtis a glimpse into a side of her he'd never quite seen. It thrilled him – he'd be that livid if confronted by a bigoted creep. "Such a pity. You of all people, a physician, should realize the blessings you've been given!"

"I do. That doesn't make it right to force this on people who don't want it." Both made it abundantly clear they coveted no such thing, even if she knew they'd be happier under the thrall of something greater. Evil or not, was it any eviler than corporations and the government running roughshod over the galaxy, blighting the lives of all but the richest?

"They are fools: children who won't take their medicine. And if you don't make them, I will." He smiled a final time before bowing out. "When I see you two gentlemen again, I expect you'll see things my way. As for you, Nicole… perhaps it is improper to praise your beauty in front of your fiancée, but you are stunning. We might be able to reach an arrangement." Her body froze and burned at once – sex with him to avoid horrible fates for her friends. Before she could get an edgewise word in, he was gone, which dazed her a moment.

A clanging screech snapped her out of it. It came from an opaque metal cylinder on the far wall: a storage cabinet. _Oh no. _Another rang out as steel was ruptured, this one catching her friends' attention. The gunmetal bent and strained from the attacks of a massively powerful Necromorph. Curtis shook like a leaf, knowing through her who it was.

Two blunt sickles carved through the container, releasing clouds of noxious gas from the split chemicals the Hunter had been locked beside.

_You're stronger than I am, sister, _he thought with the standard array of pheromones and images. That was another difference between her and Curtis' Link; being unable to detect her subtle scents and sounds, they communicated more through cogent words. _I envy your willpower, for I've lost mine. I'm sorry, Nicole, especially since you tried to save me. He'll hurt me if I refuse. I can't take any more pain._

"Isaac, can you hack the door?" Curtis squeaked as the towering form plodded toward them.

"I'm an engineer, not a programmer like Kendra, but I'll try."

Harris broke into a sprint, roaring and jabbing his blades wildly. They were screwed. The whole floor was coated in Corruption, allowing a nearly infinite amount of biomass to be absorbed. Unless somehow completely blasted apart, escape was their only hope, something Isaac slaved away at while their battle began. Not before tossing Curtis his Plasma Cutter, though. "You might need this!"

An arm fell to the ground as he wielded this smaller precision weapon with a finesse that could only be gained with years of first-hand experience. Though he didn't consider himself a soldier, Curtis was exactly the kind of warrior they needed. Harris was "disarmed" for the moment, but the headbutt to his chest was nothing to scoff at!

As he called for help, Nicole ran over, stepped on the backs of his knees, and used her paring knife claws to pop them off like a fishmonger slicing off the heads of his catch! Curtis promptly applied stasis to the throbbing torso. Isaac did the same, allowing nearly 30 seconds of uninterrupted work at the door. Klaxons blared because of the escaping chemical fumes from now-shattered containers, which didn't help the mood. Still, the weight of that was stifled by their teamwork.

It was actually beautiful. Their Bond progressed so far beyond what they expected, at least on the surface level. They communicated effortlessly, sharing suggestions and strategies in the blink of an eye. Their own strengths and weaknesses, her intelligence and his gut instincts… they were a perfect team.

But it wasn't enough. Perfection couldn't overcome indomitable, unwavering devotion.

The blue aura faded, and the Hunter's blackened stumps burst anew, shooting gore as infant appendages quickly grew to fill the void. Reminded her of the mythic Hydra – chop off one head, more would supplant it. Then he was back on his feet.

"I'm almost done!" Isaac screamed.

Nicole charged, lowering her head and driving it into her foe's chest. At the last second, her feet left the floor, allowing Curtis to chop off new legs with the Line Gun. His torso caved in before refilling with flesh, as both tumbled down, and she wiped the blood from her anvil-like cranium. That was sloppy. He could've lopped her head off if he wanted to.

_Mercer wants you… "alive". I can't imagine the things he'll do to you. _No, but she could. Out of all the things trying to stop them, he was the most monstrous, even more than the Red God. Insane as it was, being an ancient, inhuman being gave it a degree of ownership to flaunt its evil. Mercer was a man who behaved the same way.

She knew Curtis compared his attraction to her with Mercer's lust. Wasn't the same by a mile; he loved her for more than her looks. Much more. A twinge of sadness came from Harris, followed by crippling agony as the torture system Mercer wired to him activated at the slightest hint of recalcitrance. Her own thoughts sparked some minor rebellion.

Screaming rang in both their heads, and Curtis fell over in a twitching pile from _her _malaise. _Curtis! _She tried to run for him, but Harris' meaty arms stopped her as they enveloped in a crushing hug. She squirmed and struggled. Probably could have slipped out, but the Corruption worked to seize her. _I can't save you, but I can end this! I won't let him hurt you! I WON'T!_

What a gentleman. Would've been impressed by his misguided "favor" if it didn't destroy her! She slashed and brayed, but his wounds healed the moment she inflicted them.

Isaac worked at fixing the door while Kendra screamed instructions at him. Alarms about "hazardous materials" continued to blast. The ground around her screamed for her flesh to be returned! Even for her, it was deafening: a cavalcade of meaning claptrap.

Curtis picked himself up. His thoughts calmed her own, and his intention was clear even if the words were not. He was going to help. With her ribs on the verge of cratering, she couldn't decline the offer.

Rising, he primed the gun and fired low. She swung her legs up, and Harris lost his. He hauled her from his grasp while she clawed the eyes, making him shriek. _I'm trying to help you!_

"I got it!" Isaac excitedly shouted while pushing himself up. She moaned while Curtis pushed her forward, Harris slashing at their heels. The door opened; she hardly believed it. Freedom! Relatively speaking, of course. Squelching came from behind as Harris already regrew his legs. A final lunge, and he was on Curtis.

_I'll make sure he's too mangled to become one of us! _Harris internally screeched, his mind melting from hours of constant torture.

_No! _He meleed the Hunter, though it did no good. Everyone and everything screamed. A beryl orb impacted their enemy in the chest. Isaac unloaded everything into the Hunter. Pinned under its great bulk, human and Necromorph worked together to haul Curtis away… but it was too late. Though slow and dull, the Hunter's blades were still immensely powerful. A sickening rip, and the right one tore through a soft joint on his RIG and into Curtis' thigh.

He screamed as they finally got him out of reach. Dark blood spurted from the ripped fabric and metal like a miniature geyser. Even without seeing the specifics, she knew it was very, very bad. So bad he passed out. May as well have been already dead, for unconsciousness put an end to all thoughts, eliminating their Link.

"Need a hand?" someone rasped from the door. The fighting was so intense that she didn't notice her sister approaching. Normally, any help would have brought joy, but Nicole felt only rage as Curtis' life slipped away!

"You couldn't get here _a minute earlier?!_" she howled at Elizabeth, pointing to the bleeding form. There was something special about expressing anger that couldn't be done with thoughts alone. Rage flew from her like gale-force winds, cowing the invincible Necromorph. She knew the problem now and was ashamed. "He's probably going to die!" Her hand shot back to Harris. "Keep him back!"

Enraged and saddened, Elizabeth charged in. A moment later, the ground was a mess of limbs as the two dismembered each other in an endless, writhing orgy.

"Is anyone there?! Kendra, Isaac, Curtis, Nicole? You hear me?" Hammond coughed into his microphone, which came out of Isaac's RIG.

"Where the Hell have you been?" Kendra replied, not yet realizing the extent of Curtis' damage.

"In Hydroponics. It's bad here. _Real _bad. I can… barely breathe. There's more of this organic shit here than anywhere… my eyes are stinging… I'm seeing things." She wanted to scream at them to go away, but her boyfriend got on it first.

"You know what's worse?! Curtis dying! We'll get there when we can, Hammond!" Then he slammed the log closed while they continued their mad rush.

Curtis' life slipped away along with his blood. It splashed across the ground, quickly slurped up by Corruption. She quickly coached Isaac in how to deal with such a perilous injury, her mind still flying; felt like she'd throw up. She held up his legs in the air while he crouched carrying his shoulders, essentially holding him upside-down. That was the only way to keep him from bleeding out before they reached surgery!

The only good thing about this was the location. Anywhere other than Medical and Curtis would have no chance. Winding into a random room with surgery equipment, she plopped him on a table while he groaned. Broaching into consciousness and pain, a thought slipped through the cracks.

_Not like this… nothing mattered._

Nicole shook her head, trying to rid herself of sadness. Doctors didn't have the luxury of emotion in navigating life and death… but she'd never operated on a personal friend before. That made it different. _Curtis, I'll do everything I can. _Just like when trying to find a cure, what if everything wasn't enough?

Ichor gushed while she prepped for surgery. Howls echoed down the hall, and unspeakable flashes of emotion buffered her mind as wind. Didn't detect any other Necromorphs in the immediate area. She spied a medical centrifuge on the counter, which she poured the requisite chemicals into to form the desired product.

Either the pipes had burst, or something clogged them, for no water came out when she tried to wash her hands. Enraged, she plunged her hands into a canister of hand sanitizer. The alcohol promptly culled the moisture from her flesh. Already anhydrous from the fire, she felt it crack. She commanded Isaac to do the same through gritted teeth.

"Use your knife to cut open his RIG from thigh to groin! Then press hard on each end to staunch the bleeding!" Death hadn't stopped her from being able to bark orders with the best of them, and he did exactly as she asked while she raced to collect equipment. "And keep your helmet on since you don't have a mask."

Curtis' mind fluctuated with every heartbeat with agony as the sole constant. The organ most associated with life now killed him, pumping red-black blood out the angry wound in waves. Her friend did as commanded, sawing the supple fabric with his multipurpose blade. Blood was smeared across his hip, though it didn't obscure the fresh scars, pockmarks, bruises and so on. It looked like he'd ordealed a death march, which was essentially accurate. It was all a horrible dream, yet somehow actual. Her pinpoint focus narrowed more as she got to the real work.

She didn't bother with gloves, for they were ridiculous and ineffective on her talons. Bizarre viruses and bacteria may have thrived on her decaying flesh, but she needed to take that risk!

Isaac began to panic as he held down Curtis like an old-time surgeon; he was a strong man, but seeing a friend bleed to death on an operating table, wheezing and incoherently sputtering, made him hyperventilate. She didn't have time to deal with this. "If you don't do exactly as I say, he's going to die! Hold the wound open and don't let go!"

Finally, she got a good look at what she faced: a ragged tear in his hip that nearly severed his femoral artery. Even with modern medicine, it was the kind of thing that usually led to amputation, if not worse. Most doctors wouldn't have stood a chance with such limited resources, but she was no ordinary physician. In her mind, it was a 50/50 shot he'd leave the room alive.

He'd lost a lot of blood in the past minutes: 20 percent, she guessed. Usually took about 40 percent blood loss to kill an adult, but he'd been so beat-up in the preceding hours that it would likely take much less. Her only chance was to clamp the femoral artery shut and apply Somatic Gel; hopefully his body could process the dab it took to seal the wound!

A quick shot of opiate cocktail muddled his thoughts and pain. Shapes and colors drifted through their Bond like an abstract painting, which was surprisingly pleasant. Grabbing the hemostat, she maneuvered it into the wound, poking around for the shorn vessel. Despite her terror, she kept a steady hand and consciously stopped her vestigial lungs from pumping; no reason to wear a mask for her, as she didn't need to breath. With a few more pokes, she closed the forceps around the artery, making the blood flow peter out.

She scooped a small glob of Somatic Gel from one of their final tubes on her middle claw. It glimmered like silver ribbon in the red flame. "Press his flesh together as much as you can," she said to Isaac, who nodded. The two halves of the artery closed together, and Nicole brushed her talon along the fracture. With bated breath they wait, and she heaved a sigh of relief as the miracle drug very slowly mended the Hunter's mark. Far slower than normal, but it worked.

She threw a glance at the centrifuge: about half done.

"You did it," Isaac said with disbelief. That was what mattered.

But they weren't out of the woods yet, and she admitted as much. Curtis may have been stabilized, but there was no way he could move with how little hemoglobin remained in him. Somatic Gel stitched tissue back together, but it couldn't conjure cells from thin air! He needed a transfusion, but everything in the blood bank was surely assimilated by now. Maybe some synthetic substitutes were around, but they lacked the time to locate any. The only option was a direct transfusion, but nobody was around to…

Her eyes drifted to Isaac and then back to Curtis. He no longer moved. He barely breathed. What few thoughts he had were hazy and disjointed. She remembered those medical records she dug up when learning her own identity; he was her patient, so she had everything on him, including his exceptionally rare blood type.

AB positive.

A universal receiver.

"Isaac," her voice trembled, "I need to ask you for one more thing." With the wound sealed, he was able to retract the mask, revealing a haggard face. It was her imagination, but he looked years older than he did a few hours ago.

"What? Tell me, I'll do anything." Wouldn't be so gung-ho once he discovered what.

"Your life. Your blood. If you don't donate to Curtis, he is going to die." His ragged face turned pale as he realized what she demanded of him. "Please. He and you are all I have left." Stood still for a moment, and his eyes locked into a thousand-yard stare. When it ended, he finally knew.

A look of both joy and horror lining his face. "You… you're really her. You're Nicole." Him finally swallowing that bitter pill should have been cause for celebration. Instead, her head hung in shame that she might not save him.

"I am," she rasped. The words pushed him over the edge. Falling to his knees in the slime, Isaac bawled like a baby.

"I'm sorry," he cried, trying to both express his repentance and maintain some level of composure. "I'm sorry for the things I said about you. I'm sorry I pushed you away." He sobbed again. "I'm sorry I hit you! Why did I do that?!"

"I forgive you, Isaac, but you can't break down yet. I need you." Using her claws, she tore a hole in his RIG by his wrist while rewidening the incisions on Curtis' and creating a new one by his elbow – RIG self-repair was highly advanced, consisting of nanites rebuilding damaged areas by laying down various sealants. Unfortunately, there was no way to turn it off, so she needed to scrape off the thin sheen of metal and fiber protruding from the scaffolding. Hopefully this didn't wreck the suit; he was doomed without it. Damned if she did, damned if she didn't.

She took a clean piece of surgical tubing and quickly attached a syringe to each end. One side of the anastomosis went into Isaac's radial artery, just below the wrist, while the other she threaded into Curtis' medial cephalic vein on the outer side of his forearm. Curtis discerned only two things now: warmth and light.

Her studies of near-death experiences spoke about such phenomena. They clinically speculated these feelings came from a failing brain trying to ease its own suffering. Her patients occasionally mentioned perceiving similar sentiments on the operating table during particularly grueling procedures, but she never gave them much thought until now.

She saw it – a circle of radiance spiraling toward him, seeming to call him away. It wasn't her place to speculate whether this was merely biological or actual proof of an afterlife. All she knew was that it was beautiful.

The same thing might have happened to her when, for a brief moment, she was truly at rest. She didn't regret existing again, but she wondered where she'd be if never resurrected. Heaven? Hell? The void of nonexistence? The last seemed most likely, but who knew?

A moment later, high-pressure blood from the artery began flowing to the vein: a friend giving life to another. It reminded her and Curtis' Bond in a way. This was in no sense ideal – one or both of them could be infected by outside pathogens, or maybe one of them have allergic reactions to the components – but it was the only way.

Trying her best to smile, she placed a hand over his while he cried. He somberly took it, and they sat for a little while as Curtis recovered. His shallow breaths deepened, and his dreams of darkness and light gained more coherence. The light drifted away. He was going to make it.

"What about us?" she asked at last. Wanted to get this conversation over with before he awoke.

A stuttering gasp came from Isaac, who wiped the tears from his eyes. "I meant what I said. I can't love you like this." It didn't come as a surprise, but she resented the decision after the years they'd spent together. "Part of that's me being selfish… but I also can't give you the life you deserve. That's not in me. It'll sound like such a condescending insult, but I'll always be your friend." Difficult to swallow those words, but at least he tried. Huh, maybe that _did _matter. "What about you and Curtis?"

The words punched her in the face; she literally recoiled from the blow. "I – I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play coy. I might not be a romantic, but I've seen the way you look at each other. Not that you need my permission, but if you think you can make this work… go for it." Her face burned with shame. This was her fault. Should've told Isaac about that earlier. "It's fucking strange, I admit, but I've seen stranger." Still, she was glad to air this stuff out.

"Thank you, Isaac. For everything you've done for me." Isaac gave a half smile before leaning in. Before she understood his intentions, he gave her a tender kiss on the cheek, not quite brave enough to go for her mess of a mouth. Then it was over. That, she knew, would be the last bit of romantic love between the two. It was a nice note to go out on. Nothing dramatic, just a quiet end to the most important chapter of her life so far. This one would be even more crucial. Isaac coughed a little and wiped his lips on the cleanest surface he could find.

"There's one more thing," he said. "I can… _feel _myself slipping. Those hallucinations are getting worse. At first, I saw and heard things, but now it's like it's trying to take over my body or something. Soon, I might not remember you're _you._" His eyes widened at the prospect of his own leaking insanity. There was nothing she could do about it, though. Happened to everyone eventually, and the only cure was escape.

Loud, wet footsteps plodded toward them, which spooked Isaac. "It's Elizabeth," she assured him, for he might not be able to tell the difference; she was a little shorter than Harris and that was about all. Indeed, she rounded the corner, slumped over and weary. The last of her injuries finished mending as she looked at them, then at Curtis.

"Is he…"

"He'll live," she replied, no longer angry. Elizabeth would have found an incinerator or vat of acid if Curtis died because of her lateness, and she didn't need to lose anyone else. Curtis may have been beat up, but he wasn't dead or paralyzed. "It'll probably take him a few minutes to regain consciousness." For now, though, his mind was lost.

"I'm glad." She stole a backward glance, making absolutely sure she wasn't followed. "We chopped each other limb from limb again and again. Wasn't a matter of winning but getting him to blink from pain. He had enough and ran back to his master." As she said that, Nicole noticed Elizabeth's skin smoked. Whatever Mercer implanted roasted her from the inside out. She was mentally the strongest person Nicole had ever met – anyone else would have surrendered immediately.

_Would you like me to help? _She'd mulled it over before, but now they had a little time and proper equipment. The biggest gift she could give Elizabeth was removing what tormented her.

_I've tried clawing myself open, but it's very tightly bound to my body. I can't get it out._

_You forget that I'm a surgeon. I'm sure I can help. _That's just what she did.

Wasn't difficult. Well, it would've been for most people, but Nicole's skill and Elizabeth's healing factor made it a cinch. Since she operated on another Necromorph, she didn't need to adhere to safety procedures, instead sawing into the woman with her claws and performing the more delicate work with a scalpel and a medical tissue laser.

With a grunt, Nicole pulled the contraption from Elizabeth's back while Isaac looked away; couldn't stand the ubiquitous gore. She shuddered and twitched as control shifted back to herself instead of being fed through a machine. There she stood – possibly the only other Necromorph to break through the Red God's control. Mercer was to thank for that, actually; without so much pain, she couldn't have developed so much resentment for being "born".

The thing itself wasn't impressive, merely a mess of wires and spikes attached to a battery. It sickened her, apparently a device meant to specifically control Necromorphs; couldn't get it into a regular person without killing them. That implied he had plans divergent with the Red God's in spite of how much lip service he paid it. Why would he need it if the Hunter was "on loan"? Horrifically, it was _fused _with the spine, darting in and out of the bone like minnows in a stream. He must have shoved it in while Elizabeth _was still alive_, and the process completed when she transfigured. Considering he'd hacked that door, Mercer was a competent engineer himself.

_I'm… free, _she thought in disbelief. Slowly, the hulking form began to bounce on her heels like an excited child. _Thank you so much! _A quick stomp, and the machine fizzled, smoked and died. It brought her pride to help so many people. She never thought she would again.

"W-what's going on?" Nicole's head shot over. Curtis sat groaning, very confused. Before he knew it, she swept in and wrapped her arms around Curtis in a tight hug.

"You almost died," she croaked. "Isaac saved you." She used their Link to convey the events of the past minutes – nearly dying, the surgery and Elizabeth going berserk on Harris.

"What are you talking about? You're the one who did all the work," her (former) boyfriend joked as he approached. Amazing how much the oppressive atmosphere had lifted. Curtis sat for a few minutes as he tried to process the fact that, for a few minutes, he stood on the borders of this life and something else. It both terrified and awed him.

"Can you walk?" Curtis leaned off the table, wiggling his previously maimed leg. Well, it was really _still _crippled. Like his shoulder, it was serious enough damage that it would hurt when used. Nicole prepared to catch him should he fall, but he managed to shakily stand.

The centrifuge dinged, and she fished out the new capsule. Everyone looked at everyone else, and all were as ready to move as they'd ever be.

000

Curtis sat shrouded in darkness as he wept. Not just in physical pitch (though there was plenty of that to go around), but also the gloom that choked his heart and filled his lungs with tar. He had no hope left. Though he took to the stars with big goals after a semester of community college, those dreams died hard. That's how he found himself in the crappiest apartment in the crappiest city in Sol, except maybe New Horizons: Mars Capita.

Mars never had much in the way of resources; it was colonized because humanity ran out of space on Earth, same as the Moon – a place to shovel trash. Seemed it ended up one of those places. Well, the people finally had enough. Tensions simmered for months between insurrectionists and EarthGov. The flashpoint came when a Martian native raped a member of the Mars Capita Security Force… or was it the other way around? Each side blamed the other, of course. The results were less debatable.

Distant gunfire and shrieks were his answer. He whimpered and curled into a ball in his recliner, the one big piece of furniture he owned.

He didn't know what to fucking do! He'd been there less than two weeks, yet the violence eclipsed anything recent. The Resource Wars were just about done and had been for years, though maybe one or two skirmishes still petered out on distant colonies. Hopefully this didn't turn out to be like the Secession War, when a good number of the colonies went rogue and tried to overthrow EarthGov. At least, that's what he learned in school. By this point, he didn't know what to believe. It was strange. Though he tried to shirk authority as a child, who else was he supposed to trust if not his superiors? He couldn't trust himself.

The lights went out earlier when a rocket hit his apartment block. That's the reason he was a person sitting in darkness, though it worked thematically well with his crippling sadness. Killed a few families on the other side – the lucky ones were vaporized. The less fortunate suffocated in the thin atmosphere. Clenching his fist and teeth, he pulled up the holo-screen on the wall to dive into mindless entertainment.

"…and now we take you to the Wanat System, where the Planet Cracker USG Castle, the colony of Eisen and three supply ships have been lost." Not this again! He would've flipped the screen off, but just about every public channel covered it. That, and something about death on such a grand scale was impossible to look away from.

"Strange energy readings were detected emanating from the planet in advance of the crack. Whether these are related to the 'Wanat Disaster' is as yet unknown. Earth Government Defense Secretary David Chang has declared a quarantine of the system's remnants while USM forces investigate. This is Maria Regan signing off. We now go to Sachiko Seo to cover business…"

The nightmarish footage rehashed again and again: a speck of sable against the star Wanat, growing as everything around it was consumed. The planet crumbled; the Castle was stripped layer by layer. The feed mercifully went dead. In the wrong hands, gravity tethers were nightmarish. They might have been the most regulated piece of machinery made by man, considering their potential for sheer kinetic destruction. With the blackness of his room, it felt like he was in space about to be eaten, too.

With a soft cry, Curtis tore himself away. Death was everywhere, it seemed, from next door to distant worlds. He couldn't make it better (that was something he learned in childhood), but he could do his best to ignore it. Probably an awful idea, but he needed to cope. Everyone else did, and he couldn't be weak. Needed to tighten his belt and keep working like a productive citizen. That's what the anchors said, at least.

Another distant shell sent tremors through his body as he prepared for what he needed to do: find a job. Too bad he was fit only for menial labor. Besides one semester of college paid with tenuous grants and by pawning his few valuables, he had nothing under his belt except a high school diploma. He could try food service or janitorial work, but his dreams were more unusual. Not bigger, but beautiful.

He wanted to be a miner.

This was a new desire. He'd never been sure what he wanted from life. He could enlist; the military took anyone who could be whipped and molded. That's the future he dreamed of as a child, being able to explore strange worlds and be a hero! Adult cynicism set in, though, and the events unfolding around him were another nail in the coffin for his faith in EarthGov. Didn't matter whether they or the insurrectionists started the violence – they should have stopped it.

This recent passion was born more from practicality than a desire for adventure. He needed money for rent, mortgages and food and water beyond the barebones basics the welfare state. Getting to help humanity, if only meagerly, also sounded better than life on an assembly line. There was a number he had to call for a job – got it from a guy who made it sound legally dubious, but he didn't care. Operating in gray areas was part of life.

He punched in the RIG number and spun the person on the opposite end a vid-log. Hopefully this was a good time. Tilting the screen up so the person couldn't see his shabby dress, he also applied some filters to try and look less hungover. It would have to do.

After a couple rings, someone picked up. It was a strange man who likewise sat in darkness, so Curtis couldn't get a good read on him. The only details he discerned were a close-cropped haircut and many, many bags under his eyes. Looked like he hadn't slept in days, though that didn't dull the visage of skepticism.

"You're interested in a job?" he asked after a moment.

"Yes."

"Any experience?" Gingerly, he picked up a stick of gum and began to chew. Not the most professional interview he'd had. Also not the least. It suited the grungy business he tried to break into.

"Not in mining, no." Was about to quickly add some positive qualities to balance the obvious negative, but the man cut him off.

"Let's cut the shit, then. I'm not in the mood to do this. You're a greenhorn, an FNG. You need to learn fast or you'll die: get your arm chopped off in a drill, be sucked into space or pulverized or electrocuted or irradiated. Part of being a Magpie." Ow! He'd heard these were all possibilities, but the man being so honest about it took him aback. Everyone else he'd ever worked for tried to play down the omnipresent hazards of manual labor. And Magpie, right. That was the informal designation for illegal miners. Sounded kind of dumb, but he'd probably come up with something worse.

"Once knew a pilot who flew a little too close to a shockring collapse and ended up as a cubic millimeter of carbon inside an ore ball the size of a fruit basket." Was he kidding, because that sounded like something from a bad horror vid? His potential employer (though that now seemed unlikely) shook his head.

"What I'm trying to say is that I don't think you can do it. I've been in this vocation a long time. Worked as a CEC supervisor 'till they fired me. The mission I'm recruiting for is two weeks long. I doubt you'll make it past day one." A challenge, eh? Curtis overcame low expectations in the past – though not by much – and two weeks wasn't long. He may not have been too bright, but he was confident in his survival abilities; he'd endured the slums of Earth.

"I'll prove you wrong." The man ruminated for a few moments; his fingers interlaced under his chin. Curtis did his best to not look desperate.

"Benedyct Malyech," he eventually said. It took Curtis a moment to process that as the guy's name. Odd, but he'd heard stranger.

"Curtis Mason," he replied, which made the man crack a smile for the first time.

"'Mason'. Fortuitous name for this business. A stonecutter, right?" He'd never considered before, but that was correct. One of his distant ancestors must have been a carver of rock, a cognomen now passed down to him. Interesting.

"I don't believe things like that are coincidences. You're hired. Your salary will be about…"

**15 Hours Post-Outbreak**

Though Curtis' legs were still wobbly and his breathing punctuated with earthy gasps, his mind was sharp. He realized how close he came to death. How his survival hinged on two people, to whom he would gladly return the favor. That was a point of comfort as they traversed the corridors, crowded with gristle and bone. She made sure both the humans remained hydrated, too – they needed to replenish their fluids. Far away, she heard the mental chatter of her kin, speaking about the "surprise" in store. Again, they were led into a trap.

Medical was unique in that it had _two _tram stations: the primary one and an emergency entrance/exit to transport critically wounded people into cryogenic stasis, or simply "cryo". It was technology based on old theories of being able to halt bodily processes by freezing people in extremely low temperatures, combined with relatively new stasis technology. It wasn't that common, considering the speed of FTL travel. Used to be prevalent before Hideki Ishimura invented the shockpoint drive in 2244. She knew that Weyland-Yutani used it quite a bit back then. Regardless, this was the one they _needed _to go to – no time to hike all the way back to their original entrance.

_How goes your penance, sister? _she asked Elizabeth as they walked, trying to take her mind off deceit and backstabbing. Her pain was significantly lessened now. Some residual discomfort remained from nerve damage, likely permanent, but she bore no qualms about that. Better than she had been. A little irritation meant nothing.

_Well. In the past hours, I've wandered, pondering my existence and trying to sway others to our cause. It… hasn't worked well. _The dried ichor coating her crabbish claws proved it. She fancied herself a space-age undead knight errant, steeped in contemplation and righting wrongs where she could and slaying foes where she couldn't. It was juvenile, yet they both recognized that pretending to be heroes made their terrible work a little less burdensome. _At least I have friends._ Though they barely knew each other, shared memories formed enough of a connection for that term to not be a misnomer. Besides, they needed all the help they could get.

_Are you planning on coming with us? _Nicole continued as they passed a knotted tendril of Corruption as big around as a tree trunk. _We're going to Hydroponics._

_Hydroponics? Really?_

Only then did Nicole realize they'd never filled Elizabeth in. To amend this, she beamed all relevant information into her mind in the span of a few heartbeats – the air being toxified, the giant creature causing the problem and how they planned to poison it back.

_I saw it. _The tone of her mental voice felt like worms shivering down her spine. _I worked there in life, you see: a horticulturalist. While trying to escape and find Jacob, I stumbled across it. I only remember its mass. _Glimpses of a being the size of an entire room came to her, but that was all. This poison _needed _to work, because there wasn't enough ammunition on the ship to take it down conventionally._ It's… leviathan._

"_Leviathan"_, Curtis repeated; Nicole let him in on their conversation. _I'm usually the nickname guy, but that's pretty good._

The whispers in her skull grew louder, closer and more numerous. They waited. She, Elizabeth and Curtis all knew, and they made sure Isaac did, too. What could be done about it, though? That was her thought until they reached a door. Beyond was the cryo prep room… and so was Mercer. The station was the room after that if they survived him and his Necromorph posse.

"What now?" Curtis whispered. The obvious answer was to walk in, shoot anything that moved and hope for the best. That wouldn't cut it for the odds they faced.

She was a Stalker. That's what Curtis called her, and it was apt. Her instincts were to hide in shadow before mowing her prey down in a surprise attack. Brash head-on confrontations were all she'd been thrust into recently, but she'd had enough. Where Mercer was concerned, they needed every advantage. They needed to level the playing field for any chance. Fortunately, she had some ideas. She quickly outlined her proposal, aided by a diagram from Curtis' holoprojector.

Elizabeth would go in first. She was an invincible tank, so naturally she'd want to take as much damage as possible. Curtis and Isaac would flank, hanging back and picking off whatever Necromorphs they could. This would work until Harris came. At that point, Elizabeth would engage him specifically, and they'd hopefully have thinned the herd enough to have a chance. Meanwhile, Nicole would actually be a stalker – she'd climb into a vent out here and take her brethren by surprise. Of course, she wouldn't kill them, but she'd soften them up enough for others to dispatch.

Admittedly, she drew much of her tactical knowledge from the RPGs Curtis played in his spare time, with different attack archetypes for each character. Kind of embarrassing, but the logic was solid. They needed some diversity in their strategy.

"It's a good plan, but you're overlooking something," Curtis said after she'd finished her presentation.

"What?" He pointed at some bumps on the hologram's walls.

"Environmental hazards. Are those filled with liquid nitrogen or something?" No, it was some kind of near absolute-zero superfluid that assisted with freezing people. But yeah, it was a really, really cold liquid. Close enough for him. "You slash them open, that stuff gets on the ground, and Mercer's army is indisposed."

That was good. Curtis knew his stuff… or had at least seen enough vids to think so. With that, they sprang into action.

Crawling into a vent was easy as pie; she was born to do it. Though she couldn't directly survey the battlefield, that would be no problem by looking through Curtis' eyes. This felt so wrong, though. Him and Isaac were so weak from bloodletting and general circumstance, even if they had Elizabeth to protect them. Ambush predator or not, she should have been by their sides!

_It's OK. We're weakened, but we're together, and this time we're prepared. It may be a trap, but at least we know it. And your plan is really good, _Curtis assured her.

_Mercer might nominally be the one in charge, but there's no way he's working well with the Red God… if they're really together at all, _Elizabeth added. With that, her friends – her family – went to their potential doom.

The room was unfamiliar to her. A mess of tubes, piping and intricate machinery, it looked familiar yet starkly out of place on such a rickety vessel. Perhaps it was because most surfaces were covered in a layer of chromed frost, though that didn't stop Corruption from occurring. The other unusual occurrence were the Necromorphs. More than a dozen of them, examples of many bipedal phenotypes, were squirreled away in transparent tubes, coated in the same rime.

Mercer immediately launched into his villainous monologue. Again, he hid behind a thick pane of "glass" in the back, brave man that he was.

"Perhaps now you will understand," he raved. The Marker has selected me for its missionary work, and I will continue regardless of children who spurn God's blessing. I, Challus Mercer, shall serve as the catalyst for humanity's transcendence! These specimens will return to Earth with me. Their glory will spread across the planet and beyond! Embrace the inevitable!"

What a delusional moron. There was no way he'd get them back to Earth – not with the ship in this shape. Well, unless the EarthGov crew sent to find them decided to… which they might.

After all that, though, Mercer grimaced and quickly walked away while his "pawns" did the work. He was afraid of being trounced. Absolutely delicious, and it made her lick her chops as the battle began. She dearly hoped she would have the privilege of killing him to rub it in his face. There wasn't anything for a moment, though. Nothing but yelping and skittering while all eyes darted around.

Alarms warning of quarantine and imminent demise blared as the main horde of Necromorphs swept in to face her friends. It was so sudden that she flinched, bashing her head on the roof of the vent! A couple dozen minds: not the largest battle they'd yet faced, though in such a small room, Curtis felt like it was. She viewed them from many angles, all deadly. So were they!

Elizabeth charged, immediately wrecking everything in her path. Even her siblings, normally blindly single-minded, were given pause by the sight of someone taller than most of them plunging her arms into their chests and ripping them in half. They were afraid, too. It made sense. The four were legendary across the Ishimura – agents of evil and chaos, slaughtering everything in their paths. Not like the nascent Necromorphs had much frame of reference or were allowed critical thought. To them, they were demons.

Some tried charging Curtis and Isaac, but these were promptly mown down by quick, efficient crossfire. It brought her no joy, but at least their ends were relatively peaceful. Their psychic screams as life faded from them seemed less intense, anyway.

All the while, the Red God pounded in all their heads, powerful enough that even Isaac staggered.

_ **YOU ARE GOING TO DIE! IF NOT NOW, THEN IN ANOTHER MINUTE, ANOTHER HOUR. EVEN IF YOU DO ESCAPE, YOU WILL PERISH ONE DAY! JOINING ME IS LOGICAL! WHY WASTE YOUR DEATH? WHY LET IT BE THE END?!** _

Made her shiver in her iron cage. It seemed genuinely distressed they didn't accept its reality. In its world, it was truly omnipotent, and defiance was as insulting as it was baffling. Why should people not heed a being infinitely their greater? Even she couldn't answer that.

Altogether, things looked up, though. Elizabeth was covered in Swarmers, though they did no real damage, while the two humans managed to take out whatever approached them before getting too close. For a moment, she felt a spark of hope that they had a chance.

That's when Harris arrived. Her ancient Hunter was among the last, pushing up from beneath the ground like a zombie… which he was. Frustration and shame hung around his body like shackles, but that didn't stop him from running to Elizabeth, distracted with the last of the animate collagen, and running her through with a blade.

_Shit! _Her time was now. She threw herself through the grate, rolling to her feet as she hit the floor. Then she leapt up like Curtis suggested, slashing through the thick wall mounted jugs of supercooled particles, which gushed out; others were blown open with weapons fire. The few Necromorphs remaining were either stuck to the ground or wholly encased in glaciers as Bose-Einstein condensate virtually stopped the atoms of anything it touches dead in their tracks.

Elizabeth tried getting out of the way, but it was a futile effort when skewered, so she froze with the rest. Ice wound up her legs like an infection, and she slowly stopped twitching. Not a big deal, though it looked very dramatic. She wasn't in particular pain (aside from the impalement). Necromorph tissue and cells were far more elastic than humans', so all they had to do was thaw her out. It was rather amusing, actually. Like in cartoons, the eyes of her family members still roved about, and their mind still operated, as well.

_Th-thank you, _Harris commented. _I don't hurt anymore. _His "apology" was pathetic, but she saw into his head. He hurt so much, and his nerves being icebound interrupted the dolor. Despite nearly killing Curtis, she couldn't bring herself to completely hate him. Empathy reigned when you could peer into another's mind.

This was also a chance. She had enough time to remove the torture implement from his back like with Elizabeth. _Please, I'd like that very much, _he added while Elizabeth fumed. _I don't want to be part of this, but what else can I do?!_

"F-ffff_fffff_reezing cycle successful. –ansporting patients," a flat voice blared over the intercoms.

What? The AI must have broken again. That's what she interpreted it as until mechanical claws descended from the ceiling. Not a speck of frost was on her, but she benumbed. How could she have forgotten what this room was for?!

"Get her!" she yelled, jumping onto the combined frozen forms of Elizabeth and Harris as a robotic clamp closed around them. Her friends joined in a moment later, though both seemed very confused. Of course automated parts would activate whenever someone was prepped! It was difficult and dangerous to put people into cryotubes manually, so machines did the work!

They held Elizabeth down as long as they could. More arms snatched statuesque forms, jailing them in the tubes lining the walls. These would be nearly impossible to break, she knew, and they lacked the time to find the override codes!

Gritting her teeth, she adjusted her grip, and Elizabeth slowly began to descend. _That's right. Come down. _Her arm creaked and shuddered… and then it snapped off. They were thrown to the floor while the arm recoiled up. The rest of her kept going until it was sealed into one of the coffin-like stasis units along the walls. A tight fit with Harris, and the sight of them eternally locked in combat was a memorial fit for titans.

It took a moment to process it. They won and lost. They'd survived, but their friend was trapped again! Curtis tried to comfort her with thoughts, but it didn't quite work.

_I'll get out of here, _she thought, not believing it in the slightest._ Please, go._

Roiling with sadness, they left her behind. Mercer would come back to collect his slaves, her included. Gone was the composed, professional doctor. She expelled a bloodcurdling shriek and slashed the walls in rage. Maybe the monster would "settle" for Elizabeth instead of her.

"Nicole… I'm sorry," Curtis whispered, her thoughts of rage and hatred rushing between them as tumultuous water. It was directed at both of them: him for suggesting the idea and her for acting upon it. She knew his mind, at least the surface level of thoughts and feelings. He didn't mean for this to happen, and he saw it. Besides, she was complicit, too. Should've known her own deck better. In the end, there was nobody to blame but everyone. Circumstance conspired against them.

She also knew he loved her… and she showed him the memory of Isaac from when he was still unconscious. Perhaps it was irresponsible, but she wanted the both of them to be happy. Joy was hard to come across. A spark of unbridled joy kindled in his chest, though tempered by genuine sadness.

_I'm sorry you two didn't work out, _he sheepishly thought.

_So am I._

As they walked behind Isaac, Curtis silently took her hand and snuggled his head into her shoulder. Slowly blinking, she reciprocated and softly churred in his ear. They didn't need words or even thoughts to enjoy the company as they reached the station. They just needed each other. As they sat, another of his memories wormed its way into her mind.

000

When he woke, she was gone. Her identity didn't matter. Only that she departed and didn't steal anything on the way out; made sure of that with a sweep of his apartment. He never even learned her name. With a moan, he grabbed some lab-grown bacon from the fridge (an upgrade from the usual soy substitutes, as he wanted some variety) and plopped it on the griddle. Another night, another round of empty hedonism.

He acted responsibly, of course. He wasn't a sleazy pickup artist, nor did he prey on drunk women, offering to take them home and then molesting them. Such behaviors were despicable.

Instead, he was honest. Near the end of a night, he'd sit down next to a woman (or man, if he felt adventurous) and strike up a conversation. Didn't matter what about, just that they got to know each other on a basic level. Then he'd candidly ask if they wanted to fuck.

Most of the time, they refused. He got slapped in the face pretty often, which made him steam until he reminded himself this wasn't the normal way to get tail. He didn't know what else to do, though! He craved connection, but mindless gyrating was the only way he knew how to get it. He didn't have the energy to pursue friendships or romance, and even if he did, nobody would like him. Nobody liked anybody. That's why everyone pretended to be interesting or charismatic. Never worked for him. He thought back to half a lifetime ago on the night he tried getting into that bar. How could life be so empty?

_Worthless. Good only to dig. _He pressed a button on the wall, which raised the window shutters, revealing the world outside – Saturn. Growing up on Earth, it used to scare him how only a few inches of glass protected him from violent death. Every so often (more frequently than he would have liked) a psycho with explosives blew a hole in the hull and took out a city block. Well, he'd adjusted to society better than some people.

_Maybe it's time to get religion. Those Unitologists seem pretty happy. _He knew a few converts, and they were satisfied with their choice. The whole premise of alien rock gods seemed pretty loony, but the universe was a mysterious place. Maybe it was all true. It'd give him hope for the future instead of making him wallow in this foul present.

The timer on his Weyland-Yutani stove dinged, breaking through the daydreams.

_What'll I do? _he asked, as if it was even a question. He'd do the same thing he'd done for the last decade – mine. The asteroid belt, the Jovian moons, a job or two gas extracting on Uranus. Titan was his favorite, though. Had to be, as it birthed the Sprawl – the most sumptuous city in Sol off Earth. Though it had been nearly tapped out with the "moon harvest" decades ago, Titan's unique composition made it viable to mine the shard that remained. From what he'd heard, it sounded like a very unusual world, with only a few similar planets and moons located, none of them nearby. Its supplies of natural hydrocarbons were essential in making polymers across the galaxy. The government itself even paid for his housing so he could work.

He'd performed the same song and dance for so long – looking back on it, he could hardly believe he was 31 years old. What kind of life had he lived?! Hadn't done a damn thing in the last 10 years besides hit rocks, have sex, get wasted and consume mindless popular culture. He needed a change. A big one.

Not much variety with mining, though. It was one of the most monotonous professions he knew. Better than working an assembly line, but hardly more complex. He had an idea, though, one bolstered by his view of Saturn and the great city outside. The moon harvest gave birth to planet cracking. Maybe he could be part of that? He'd heard through the grapevine of his mining associates that the CEC geared up for a big expedition _with the Ishimura! _Surprisingly hush-hush for a megacorp recruiting drive. Maybe it was on the far side of the law – wouldn't be surprised – or for a very exclusive group.

The chances he could procure a spot on the first planet cracker, most famous spaceship in history and arguable savior of the human race was slim to none, but what did he have to lose? If rejected, it was no skin off his back. The opportunity to step beyond Sol also tantalized. Most people had been out for either pleasure or business, and he'd been presented several opportunities to embark on missions to strip mines extrasolar moons and planets, but he'd never taken the leap. Wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just too different.

With a sigh, he typed on a holographic keyboard and prepared to spin a log to the local CEC recruiters and see if this job was even real. _Pretty exciting if it is._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pleased I was able to get another chapter out this month; wasn't sure I could with the previous one being so long. This is going to be similar to the last chapter in format but with Nicole getting all the action and flashbacks with Curtis. I think I'll go back to my standard approach of switching between the two, but this was a fun way to mix things up.
> 
> This might be a bit of a strange thing to bring up, but I've alluded to Curtis' sex life a couple times by now, so I'll just flat-out say he's bisexual, though with a definite lean toward women. I decided for that to be the case because it gives him wider standards of beauty than most people. Wanted to say that in case it needed clearing up, though it's probably not important.
> 
> Since I've brought it up a few times, I want to explain "resort worlds"; it's me piecing together several bits of canon. So, there are some habitable worlds beyond Earth which are seen in ads and stuff, even though it's well-established in DS that no aliens have ever been found (except the Tau Volantians by SCAF). My idea is that there are a few planets that EarthGov has extensively terraformed as paradises for the rich and powerful: probably around five. The two we know of are Shalanx III and Kreemar, the latter housing another Red Marker. These will be important, considering they have biospheres comparable to Earth's – feasts for the Moons.
> 
> Finally, I really didn't expect Elizabeth to become such a prominent recurring character. Just sort of happened, but I'm glad it did. I find her really interesting.
> 
> To JASONVUK, CELFWRDDERWYDD, ALEXANDERMUGETSU, CRIMSON AN'XILEEL, RABIDPANZER and ANCIENTOFDAYZ, thanks for reviewing! I'd especially like to thank the last for helping me with the surgery scene, considering he's a biologist. I don't usually do stuff like this, but THANK YOU HEALTHCARE/ESSENTIAL WORKERS, as well! I should have said this earlier, since both my parents are doctors and Nicole is, too. Thank you so much for putting your lives on the line. You don't get half the credit you deserve. A belated Memorial Day/Eid, as well.


	21. Interspecies Relations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did the title get your attention? This is where the romance really starts! It's something I'm hyped to explore. I hope it's not tacky for Nicole to enter into another the moment her previous one dissolved; being asexual and aromantic, I've never been in a relationship, so I don't know. That's a problem with writing nearly 200,000 words set in the span of less than a day; things happen quickly.
> 
> My publishing internship has started, and that's going well. It's a field I would never have considered without fanfiction. Hard to overstate how much this website has changed my life, and I truly thank you for all being part of that. I hope I can also be a positive influence for all of you, no matter how small. On that subject, I apologize for the substantial wait. It's been a month since the last update. I've slowed down both because of work and because I'm stewing on a new fanfiction project. I won't publish it for a long time, but inspiration is coming to me on that in droves right now, and I have to strike while the iron is hot.
> 
> Because I keep bringing it up, it's time to explain Peng, at least my interpretation. What's this sex thing I keep referencing? Throughout the entire series, it's a brand found on signs and billboards, paired with attractive women. That's really all we know; it was an inside joke between the game devs. My idea is that it's one of the most popular pastimes of the future – a VR service where people can create ideal sexual partners, with nerve stimulation and everything. Makes sense to me with how vapid this world is.
> 
> One more thing. Remember how I got fanart of Mike last chapter? Well, between that and now, I got some of Foxy from a completely different person – check out DELIGHTEDRABBIT on DeviantArt for a fantastic interpretation of her. Kind of doubt I'll ever get any for this story, considering Dead Space is a completely different fandom, but that's all right.
> 
> Thanks to RABIDPANZER, CELFWRDDERWYDD, ALEXANDERMUGETSU, THEROCKETEURE, ANCIENTOFDAYZ and DERPYSAUCE for reviewing. Those are always appreciated. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

**15 Hours, 15 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Curtis considered his newfound relationship with Nicole as the tram trundled along. It wasn't officially _anything _yet, though they wanted it to be.

He didn't know how this could possibly work, though. The Red Marker was right in that every minute and hour they endured brought more death into their worlds. Their lives circled the drain. Even if they escaped, her reality would be one of misery spent sequestered indoors and without any of her kind. He'd get a job in a mine somewhere while she rotted away in a prison in all but name. Even for the undead, that wasn't a life!

Was this a good thing? Isaac and Nicole decided to separate – that was their business, and he wouldn't question it. However, was it responsible to court her so soon after a breakup?! He didn't want to take advantage of her by pressuring her while vulnerable. Peering into her mind, he saw she rebuffed his unease.

_Curtis, I appreciate that you're so concerned about me. You're sensitive. _Flashes of his past rebounded into his forethought: dead-end relationships and broken hearts leading him to opt for sex alone. Nothing wrong with that, but he wanted more. _This won't work out perfectly. We're different in so many ways. _Even if they operated well in combat, that meant little on the battlefield of life. _This wasn't my first choice. I don't say that to demean or imply you're a lesser person, just to remind you this won't be easy for anyone._

There were so many ways his spark of hope in the dark night could become a black hole itself. _I'm not trying to treat you like a child, _he responded._ Just… I've never been in a relationship. With our connection and the fact you're _you_, we'll always have to be together. _Even if they ended up despising each other, abandoning her would be abominable; they were forever bound. _I can't give you a good life, but I want to give you the best I can. _Warmth and joy pooled in her chest, and a beautiful smile spread her scabrous face, a gesture that facilitated such feelings in him.

At this point, he was more baffled than concerned that he found her alluring. Like, he'd never been particularly turned on by the weird fetishes saturating the Transnet, and there were many. As humanity expanded, so did the boundaries of social acceptability. Nobody batted an eye anymore, which he appreciated. But the furry chicks programmed into Peng never did it for him, nor did any other non-humans. He was pretty vanilla in that regard.

So why he was attracted to a raptor/bug zombie was beyond him. _Maybe it's because she's actually real. Those other things aren't._

The tram creaked as it rolled into their stop, causing Isaac to wake and grumble something unintelligible. He looked like a man on a bender, which was about how Curtis felt. Curtis noticed that he, Isaac and the gondola shared ailments such as rickets, chills and fevers. They were all part of the same system now, freely trading illnesses between them.

His head sloshed as he stood, and a swarm of insects momentarily buzzed in his helm. With Isaac's blood in him, things weren't as bad as he expected, at least. He felt weaker, though, like he'd just gained 10 years. _I have to be smarter going forward._

Nothing seemed sinister about this terminal. In fact, it was the cheeriest, with regular light and a little something extra. Behind sheer glass panes were samples of fruits and vegetables grown on the deck. Sequestered in their own sections were succulent melons, ripe pears and fat pumpkins, grown in pools of nutrient-enriched water and genetically modified to be as hardy as possible. He was surprised to see them alive, but it made sense. The infrastructure was more intact here than other decks, and even the Marker couldn't make a tomato kill itself. His mouth watered looking at them, and he heard Isaac's stomach growl.

Nicole was confused for a moment. Took her several seconds to recall these strange green things. It was both funny and sad she needed to think to remember vegetation. Maybe it shouldn't have been, though. The only plants he'd ever seen in the "wild" were scraggly clumps of grass and spiky weeds in the cracks of pavement. There were more in that recent dream about him and Nicole at a botanical garden or something than he'd seen in real life.

_I just wish I could have some. _Wait, he could! He almost forgot no one was alive to halt his fruit theft. "Hey, I'm gonna get some of this," he said, punching through the material. Breaking it with his RIG was like swatting a fly. "You want any?" He dipped his gauntlet into a tub of water and swirled it around to remove most of the grime and zombie bits before plucking a perfect yellow apple off the small branch sustaining it.

_Wait, don't take off your helmet, _Nicole said, but hunger got the better of him. She wanted him to stay healthy and hydrated? Well, this was the best way to do both! He retracted the covering and immediately regretted it. His eyes watered and throat burned the moment they were exposed, making him retch and change course. _There's methanol in the air here. Inhaling even a little causes nervous system depression. _This was followed by a round of images and sensations that could cause, none of them pleasant: paralysis, seizures, loss of bowel control. Didn't quiet his stomach, though.

_Fine, I'll eat after we clean the atmosphere, _he thought while expelling noxious ether from his lungs. Fortunately, the air scrubbers could take care of that unless concentrations got really high. At that point, it'd switch over to his oxygen reserves._ How do you know so much about chemicals, though?_

_It's not my specialty, but we were just at the Chem Lab. Most compounds on a starship will kill you if you aren't careful, so doctors have to be familiar with at least the basics. _Made sense, but that appeared difficult with how similar the names sounded. _I'm sure you can learn more on the local Transnet if me showing you a guy going blind from methonic acid eating his optic nerves didn't convince you._

"Will you tell me what you're talking about?" Isaac asked, making both their heads shoot toward the man, who methodically tapped his foot on the metal. "Don't deny it. It's plain as day there's a conversation in your heads. I just want to know if it's about something important." Curtis didn't think anyone would catch on. Yes, they operated uncannily well together and knew things they probably shouldn't have, but who would discern the cause? Only then did he realize how much of a psycho he'd been, laughing and sighing with seemingly no provocation. "I already know you Necromorphs are part of some crazy hive mind. You have something similar?"

All right, all right. There was no point keeping it a secret. They mostly just wanted to protect their privacy, but now Isaac learned his former girlfriend and Curtis tried to start something; secrecy was out the window. He let Nicole quickly explain it, which only took a minute. Isaac was addled and not well-versed in the science of telepathy, but he comprehended enough to get the basics: they were compatible, and the amount of psychic energy between them created a "Bond" similar but not identical to the ones Necromorphs shared with each other.

"Please don't tell Hammond about this," Nicole requested, ending her story with a paean for solidarity. "He already thinks I'd be an 'asset' to the CEC. If he finds out about this, that'll cement it." Neither wanted to antagonize the man.

Isaac responded with a polite nod. "I wouldn't think of it."

Curtis still sputtered the last of the methanol out of his lungs as they rounded the hall's first corner. It was a simple maneuver; one he'd performed thousands of times. Never before had his entrance been met by a volley of gunfire, though! Bullets pinged off the bulkhead to his right, sparking from the friction and making him jump back.

"Wait! Sorry about that," a thin, strained voice called. "I thought you were…" Hammond didn't finish as they walked up to him. Not that he could, for he looked _horrendous_. He slumped against another small greenhouse, gasping like a fish while his eyes bulged out. The cards were always stacked against him, not having a heavy-duty RIG like him and Isaac. Now he'd been dealt a particularly bad hand.

"Good to see you all in one piece. Don't… take off your helmets; the air's rotten." He turned to Nicole and cracked a small smile. "Though I suppose you don't have to worry about that." Despite just expressing her distrust for the man (which was reasonable), concern for his health stirred in her gut. The feeling was mutual.

"Hammond, I'm going to stand you up, OK?" she asked. "The gasses affecting you are heavier than air. If you're standing, you won't inhale as much." Though her voice was foggy and torn, the intonation was one reserved for children and people who were very confused; that was appropriate with his soupy eyes. He grunted his assent, so she heaved him up and away from the bulk of the septic vapors. Rattling and coughing for a second, the man nevertheless mended, growing more lucid. _It's a temporary fix. He needs to leave ASAP._

"I saw _it_ through a window. It's huge," he gasped, reminding him of an ancient sailor extolling tall tales. "You won't believe it. It's sealed in Food Storage, secreting that venom." Curtis was stumped by the whole affair. He couldn't fathom the Marker's enormity, but he grasped some of its characteristics, and one of them was frugality. With the Leviathan's biomass, it could have doubled the number of Necromorphs aboard, created a new army!

Instead, it decided a circumspect scheme to poison the air via an undead bioweapon stood a better chance of annihilating them than a thousand more beings with knives for hands or that belched acid. _No. Not them. _Much as he wanted to pass the buck, this wasn't about anyone else. The gasses wouldn't hurt Nicole. Isaac, Hammond and Kendra were still relative newcomers. Mercer and Kyne were within the Marker's thrall.

It wanted _him_. Him, chosen by the Black Marker, the one who somehow survived everything thrown at him for 15 hellish hours. Maybe he couldn't beat the obelisk, but he'd burrowed into its mind. It was enraged and getting sloppy – the pounding and screaming in his brain proved that (though, again, Nicole's psychic safeguards lessened that torment). He only foolishly hoped it didn't target anyone else in its vendetta to destroy him.

_ **I WAS RIGHT TO CHOOSE YOU.** _

Curtis agreed for once. How many people could irk a god? He hoped the thorn in its stony side got infected and it died in horrible agony.

"The crew on this deck are helping it to poison the air, I think," Hammond continued, breathing a little easier now. "Saw one of them. They're bloated, swollen, ugly. That's… par for the course, though. We need to take them out while we can still breathe!" He held his Pulse Rifle aloft for a moment, trying to maintain a stolid expression, but the gas took its toll. He turned sallow from the exertion, and his arm flopped to his side again. For the first time, he looked humiliated and defeated. Curtis knew what that felt like.

Just then, a gout of static appeared on the man's chest. Kendra's entrances were so perpetually dramatic they hardly fazed Curtis anymore.

"Hammond! I thought you were dead," she croaked. "You need to get to cleaner air; you're not going to help them in your condition." Her voice and eyes dripped with concern across the hazy veil. "I'm scanning the area now. He's right, there's something _really big _in Food Storage, but I can't get a good scan, and all the cameras in there have been overgrown. Be careful." A fizzle on the screen, and she was gone. That left them with the frustrated, impotent figure.

"I know you hate this," Isaac said, "but you can't help in your condition, man… _sir_. Get somewhere else; the path we've left is clear." This was a man, a soldier, who was constantly powerless to help those under his command. Their goals and morality differed, and Curtis didn't fully trust anyone associated with the military (or the CEC, but that included them all, so he let that slide), but they were on the same team… until off the ship. Hell, the fact he listened to his underlings proved him a better commander than most so-called "leaders" he'd served with. That was a characteristic which crossed professions.

Hammond was about to object, but the act of inhaling brought another coughing fit, and Nicole steadied him. Wordlessly, he limped past them, unable and unwilling to admit defeat while using his rifle as a cane.

Sadness and dread hung in the heavens as they entered the next chamber. The room – the whole ship, really, but this place in particular – was saturated with anguish, like scents which lingered in a restaurant long after everyone had gone. Who knew whether that was him being upset or if sensing auras was somehow one of his newfound abilities? He didn't know why he felt this, though, for nothing stood out about the place.

It was a small, dark, industrial room. Literally thousands of them around. The only thing that made this one special was a small computer console in the center and dozens of primitive fans around, ready to slice an arm off if activated. Normal doors stood on either side, while the one before them looked like an airlock, and it was set in an alcove. Metal bars reinforced the door, which was sealed tight. Something told Curtis that was where they needed to go, for it could never be as simple as opening a door. There was always some chicanery or bullshit to wade through first.

"That's the door to Food Storage," Kendra commented on the peculiar threshold. "It's locked down tight because of all the poison; the AI doesn't want toxins getting into the rations, even though it's already in there." She sighed at the stupidity of machines, which must have been depressing as a programmer. "Killing the things Hammond mentioned might crack it." He mentally asked Nicole whether she could crawl through the vents and open it from the other end, only to be met with fantasies of blades liquefying her or falling into a nutrient vat. Point taken!

"Do you know where they are?" Curtis asked. The thought of killing monsters dulled his dread.

"I can find out," she replied. "If I map where methanol concentrations are highest, then I should be able to discern the number and location of sources…" Some soft clacking came from her end. Though most keyboards used holographic interfaces, some people adjusted them to produce the typing sounds of old. More "authentic". "Got it! I'm uploading the locations to your and Isaac's RIGs. They'll be on your maps."

He pulled his own up to check, nearly fainting from the sight of the perilous labyrinth. He complained about other decks being confusing to navigate, yet this seemed a parody of his complaints. Though Kendra was a bitch at times, they'd be screwed without her. Even Nicole's Necromorph-sensing abilities would be fruitless. Knowing the direction of their prey meant nothing if they lacked a route.

Eight orange dots pulsated in the maze of grow chambers, storage areas and access tunnels across myriad subdecks. There were four on each side of them; this room was a major junction for the rest of the deck. The tiny words above marked it as "Atmospheric Processing".

"One more thing," she added, her voice hoarse. "Curtis, Nicole… thank you. Without you, Hammond would be vomiting blood right about now. It's a bitter pill to swallow, but I was wrong about you two. I'm sorry." Better late than never. Really, he appreciated the words, as did Nicole. Her forgiveness meant much more, as she received the brunt of Kendra's insults.

"I speak for both of us when I say we forgive you." Her face lit up, a beacon in dark waters. "How are the shuttle repairs going?" he added. In a race against time, they all needed to know who was winning.

"Surprisingly well, all things considered," she remarked, getting back to work the moment he asked. "The software is running fine. The fuel tanks are full, and I've scavenged most of the hardware Isaac requested." He wanted to ask how. Again, she always seemed to know far more than she let on. He shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, though. Her being competent was good. "Anyway, there's one thing I haven't been able to get my hands on – a shockpoint drive."

Damn it. Isaac sighed at the news. That was the linchpin! Flying a ship without one was like trying to drive a car without an engine. They could technically return without one, but it would take several thousand years! "There have to be back-ups onboard."

"There are, but they're wholly incompatible. You can't load an ADS shell into a Divet." Made too much sense. There was no way a Planet Cracker's parts would work if attached to something a thousandth the size!

Without one, the two saw a few options, which they put their heads together to sort at twice the speed. Firstly, they could just bail and fly out of the Marker's range. The military should arrive soon to pick them up. What would _happen _to them was anyone's guess, but he doubted it would be pleasant. _Maybe _he would walk out of custody after several months of interrogation and testing, though he doubted it. Nicole would never see the light of day again. That was a last resort.

Otherwise, they could try to skim the wreckage around Aegis VII for one. Several spacecraft were blown up by the Ishimura during Mathius' no-fly order when the colony's infection started. Though unlikely, it was possible one of the hulks had something which could be salvaged. The shuttles Mercer scuttled might also be out there, though most had probably already been obliterated by debris or sucked into the planet.

Finally, they could search the colony itself. It'd still be infested with Necromorphs, and was that what he wanted to deal with? It would actually be far worse than up here. He didn't know the colony's population, but Nicole estimated it was several times that of the Ishimura. What eldritch horrors were born from the smorgasbord of biomass, writhing under the dusty clouds in crimson light?

No choice promised success, but they were all his limited mind could foresee. Nicole, a far smarter person than him, was also stumped. Energetic ideas bubbled to the surface of her mind, were examined and sank again as in "tectonic subduction". He didn't even know what that was!

"Well, I'll leave you to it," Kendra muttered. "I'm also sorry I can't do more. I mean, I'm doing what I can, but nothing like you."

"Don't feel bad," he replied. "If you weren't fixing that shuttle now, it'd take hours later. And now we know what we're up against in another sense."

She smiled one last time and killed the feed. That left the three of them… or perhaps two and a half. Isaac didn't look all there, wobbling slightly. He hadn't ever since they departed the tram. He was morose, sluggish and heavy on his feet. Really did act like a sick person, and it probably wasn't the transfusion.

"Isaac?"

"Huh?" His head drifted, only lethargically coming around to face them. "What?" Nicole was also concerned, and her worry mattered far more.

"We're going now," she said. _I think the hallucinations are getting to him. _Curtis' heart sank. He should have suspected such, but he didn't want to consider the possibility. More importantly, he began to forget what the Marker's hellish world was like. Nicole spoiled him by suppressing the worst of his madness. It still affected him, yet the visions diluted themselves while they were together like watered-down alcohol. Isaac had no such safeguard. "Nicole" would eat him alive.

She had to make a terrible choice. Everyone knew they needed to split up. With the rate the toxic gasses rose, travelling together would make them suffocate before they reached the end. Looking between the two of them, she sighed, and he felt her mind was already made up…

**15 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Nicole and Curtis clunk down the hallway. More of a catwalk, actually. The apertured floor exposed several subdecks in both directions. A kaleidoscope, the surroundings shifted with each step, revealing new faces. Her siblings followed above and below, pressing their faces to the floor and ceiling while screaming curses. Only Curtis kept her from collapsing and letting them tear her apart. She wanted to die again.

Nicole reminded herself of their task for a pittance of a distraction. They were to eliminate the four poison pumping Necromorphs in and around the West Grow Chamber. Isaac roamed the East to cull his lot.

_East? West? _The naming convention shouldn't have been an issue, but the asininity of dubbing things in space with cardinal directions astounded her. Bemusement hardly shook the real problem away, the thing she should have focused on. _Did I make the right choice?_

It was an impossible decision; both Curtis and Isaac had been instrumental in her life (and beyond). She chose Curtis because Isaac had the boon of time on his side. Hadn't been there too long, all things considered. She also remembered what he said about "forgetting" her. Her presence might exacerbate that condition.

If only Elizabeth were here! She'd go with Isaac and – Nicole wrenched herself away before the thoughts consumed her. Down that way led an even greater insanity than the Red God's brand. Speaking of insanity, the screaming around her threatened to drive _her _mad.

_You bitch! We're going to kill you! _one shrieked.

_How dare you revoke your creator?! You have no right! _continued another. No matter where her vision roved, her siblings screamed and spat literal and metaphorical venom. The two cleared their own catwalk of Necromorphs, but the adjacent ones, segregated by space and surprisingly sturdy barriers, were still hives of hatred.

_I hope you get syphilis from your human mate! You come from an exalted caste; romance is not our way, but you'd deserve someone better if it was. Someone like me! _That one was actually amusing, so she let Curtis hear it. Like a supernova, mirth temporarily overwhelmed the hatred and negativity pressing down on them from every angle. But really?! She was fucking deceased and still got hit on _by Necromorphs_. A lot less, at least, but some people were so horny their libido survived death.

And now they knew the two were "involved". The Red God fed her kin this knowledge to make them hate her even more for such abominable actions. It was another example of humans and Necromorphs perhaps not being so different, after all. Both would have strong reactions to _this_. "Miscegenation" always made tempers flare.

With the rattling bars and angry, shouting faces, it felt like they were jail guards being yelled at by inmates. These prisoners, though, were her brothers and sisters. After what seemed like forever, Curtis navigated to a door. The sides of this room were solid, though that didn't prevent hatred from leaking through the walls. She internally sighed, glad to be away from one half of the issue.

_It looks like we're below the grow chamber, _he commented, pointing to the plumbing around them. The space was packed with pipes, and the sound of gurgling water quelled the pain somewhat. Even between the biological landscape and rugged metal crags, the simple sound of a flowing stream seemed as wondrous as either. If only Isaac was there with them…

_I know about guilt and doubt, _Curtis assured her. She felt bad about having him play therapist. Both of them were broken people, longing to be made whole. _It might sound like a bad excuse, but there's nothing we can do now. It's done. _Sounded like BS, but he had more experience in the realm of mental stress than her. _And don't worry about leaning on me. You've done so much, Nicole. I'd like to help you… though I don't know if I can._

_You can, _she thought, putting a mangled hand on his arm. _I know it._

She felt him blush under the helm. A burst of self-consciousness shot from him, and he quickly changed the subject.

_Can plants become Necromorphs? I've meant to ask that since we got here. _He suddenly twitched. His fear made sense. If undead _humans_ were intimidating, how much more something barely alive to begin with?

_I think so. Plants have cell walls, but that shouldn't stop them from being infected. _There were other factors that might make a difference, but she hadn't dissected a plant in years. Not her specialty. _Still, what's grown on Hydroponics are fruits and vegetables in nutrient baths and hanging gardens. Not hardy enough to make it as Necromorphs. They'll probably be integrated into the Corruption. _If there were trees, it'd be different.

_The Leviathan is another story,_ she added, using the name Elizabeth had given it. Seemed only right that they honor her in some small way. _I've been thinking about it. Something so big isn't purely human. Not enough to account for the mass. And with it in Food Storage, the answer seems obvious to me._

Curtis shuddered as he grasped her hypothesis – that the Leviathan was an amorphous amalgam of plant and animal tissue from the Ishimura's stock. It was common for vessels to grow a surplus crop for emergencies. How ironic that the food became the fucking emergency. Just something to think about as they travailed the protruding plumbing.

A twinge of poison brushed her nostrils, so she sniffed the air and shoved such conversation aside. Time quickly ran out. Another hour and this place would smell like a moonshine still, with far more deadly contents. To humans, at least. All it did for her was reek. _Let's go._

Not much later, they looped around onto a catwalk leading over the pit they just traversed. It ended at the door to the grow chamber. _What's next? _Curtis asked. For most, the question would have been purely rhetorical. However, she was able to pinpoint other Necromorphs by "listening" for their minds like a bat using echolocation. The possibilities of a hive mind never ceased to amaze her.

Clearing her mind, Nicole reached beyond the door like she crept through a room of sleeping people. She needed to detect them without making them aware of her presence. There was a lot of biomass behind the door, though the number of minds didn't match. That supported her hypothesis of dead plants being assimilated into supplementary positions. Between the array of placid minds and the map Curtis projected, she niftily wove her own geography by marking enemy with light claw taps.

_That was really cool. _Curtis mentally beamed, still in awe of her abilities. It was cute how excitable he could , this was it. This was as ready as they'd ever be. Curtis put his hand on the door, which silently slid open.

Not as intimidating as she expected. Pools of stagnant water collected in the dented ground, which hindered Corruption growth. Together with the plentiful vines and canned monkey sounds played on a loop (which sounded like the Gorillanauts ululating at each other), it created a striking contrast between "nature" and the artificial world. This was a swamp if she'd ever been in one… which she hadn't. Actually, there were some places on Kreemar that had marshes, though those seemed mundane compared to this meat garden.

_Where's that Corruption I… oh. _Her question was answered once she looked at the walls. The world waggled its pseudopods at her, almost completely consumed by the angry material, which screamed bloody murder at her as always. Still, there were some barren spots where liquid trickled from broken sprinklers: waterfalls in the collagen jungle. There were no enemies. Not yet, a fact Curtis began to ponder.

_We have to fight sooner or later, _he thought._ Conflict is inevitable. Want to wait until later or start things now? I think we should just get it over with. _He sent her a mental image of firing the Line Gun into the air to get attention.

Nicole agreed. Their environment offered many benefits for their hit-and-run style of combat: a large area with lots of cover, good lighting and multiple escape routes. It was a fantastic environment for her. Nice place to be a Sta –

_What was that? _she wondered, though the question was directed inward rather than to Curtis. It wasn't much, merely a quick splash in a distant pool. At first, she thought she overreacted. They'd made that Necromorph map, and none were particular close. Probably her imagination. Despite her level head, she could be thrown off like anyone else, and the constant berating she received might make her system sluggish.

_Splash! _No mistaking it this time, and Curtis drew his gun while they surveyed the jungle. The room was livelier than any she'd been in since resurrection, but thick foliage and scaffolding obstructed her vision. Whatever they faced must have been nearly as fast as her to break away from where they'd been. The choice had been made for them.

"Never a dull moment," Curtis muttered as he flicked off the safety, which made her expel a braying guffaw. It sounded like a rusty chainsaw chewing off someone's leg. She felt him mentally cringe at the noise.

_Eh, not everything about me can be as sexy as my smoking body, _she sarcastically thought, catching brief glimpses of flitting shapes through the vines. Barks, chirps, growls and yaps, though some might have been from the looped audio. They seemed… familiar, though, stimulating something primal in her own mind: the thrill of the hunt.

She caught herself howling in response as they circled the duo like sharks, feeling their meanings in her marrow. Each call evoked a different command: _wait, advance, slow. _It was more advanced than the mentalities of most Necromorphs, who retained one rudimentary killer instinct and acted upon it the second something alive entered their perception. It also freaked Curtis the fuck out. Fear spiked in his cortex, and she swiftly moved to calm him down even as the adrenaline tasted of sweet brandy. Their foes prepared themselves. All the while, thoughts shifted in her mind, moving back and forth like conveyor belts.

Splashing. Roars. Hunt. Kill. _Hunt. Kill. __**Hunt. Kill. **__**HUNT. KILL.**_

_Nicole, _he thought, unsure what happened to her. It felt _so _good, like scratching a dog behind the ears. It came naturally, unlike everything she'd forced herself to do of late – to play nice with a human and embrace the trappings of civilization when her soul, if such existed, called her to spread the Red God's gospel: Convergence. Part of her realized this was wrong, but everything else was even worse.

_Nicole, don't lose yourself, _Curtis said, trying to steady her quivering form. _You're stronger than the Marker. Don't let it take who you are!_

_You… took who I am, _she slurred, suddenly gaining perspective. The world turned red while her kin monolithically clattered and clacked. She no longer knew what she said, only that it felt right – to someone. But she somehow knew he took everything from her: culture, family, reason to exist. He was the reason she couldn't be happy. He ruined her! _I'm going to return the favor! _With a screech, she drunkenly lunged at him.

"This isn't you, Nicole!" he pleaded while dodging her claws. She let him, of course. Better to draw out his suffering, for this was the only shot at vengeance she'd receive! Crimson splotches formed in her vision as other minds moved in, and she spoke with a thousand voices.

_Not… my name. I don't have a name. _Monikers meant individuality. Yes, they possessed some semblance of self, but it always came second to group needs. Only when all was said and done could they pursue individual interests… and even those would be mercifully wiped away by Convergence.

The miner pulled back while priming his weapon. Didn't scare her. Indeed, the threat kindled bloodlust in her stomach; she couldn't wait to tear him limb from limb, watching his life be reclaimed by the ground while he screamed. She growled, clawing the loamy ground with her feet. Her brothers and sisters hung back and waited for her to strike the killing blow. For once, the animate terrain praised her. Why did she give this up?! Positive energy flowed into her, a mere taste of what could be hers again.

_ **KILL HIM AND YOU WILL BE FORGIVEN; I AM A MERCIFUL GOD.** _

He fumbled with the Line Gun, drawing it, aiming it… tossing it aside. His nerve broke, and he needed to brace himself to stand. She vaguely remembered the time he attacked _her _when under the Red God's thrall. How vicious and merciless he was, and how she only reluctantly reciprocated. She was absolutely pathetic back then. How much more was this creature?! He wasn't even strong enough to defend himself. How did she fall in line behind such a coward, one who nearly wept? She lowered herself to _surgery_ to keep this sack of flesh and shit animate.

_Pick up your weapon. _Opening her mouth, she flared her mandibles to intimidate him. Gutting a whimpering coward wouldn't satisfy her. She wanted him to go down screaming.

"Nicole, I'm not going to fight you!" he shouted, head snapping about as the pack careened closer. "You're my friend. You've saved my life! I don't want to die, but I can't hurt you again!" He was about to say something else, but that was promptly halted when her skull impacted his sternum, knocking him into and _through _an arboretum.

_Get up. _She wrapped her claws around his neck and hurled him through the opposite end. He ragdolled when he hit the ground. Glass shards sliced her feet, but she didn't care. Nothing mattered except _him. _She supposed that was always true; practically since her conception, she leaned on him. Was her own family not good enough?! Breaking his spine would mend relations. He didn't acknowledge the pummeling he received, merely groaning. Her siblings cheered as she gingerly rooted a foot on his chest, now orange with pumpkin juice.

_Get. Up. _There wasn't much of a threat she could tack on; "or I'll kill you" meant nothing because the reaper came for him regardless. He hacked for a second before reclining on his elbows. _Close enough._

"You're the strongest… person… I know." Oh, he wanted to deliver a final monologue, get his last words on record. Very well. She'd love to hear him beg, so she removed her pronged extremity for him to speak easier, and he scrambled onto his ass.

"I know you won't do this. I've seen your past. Your life has been just as bad and hard as mine. But you've seen that, too." Indeed, he'd glimpsed her life, and she, his. Not comprehensive, yet such a connection was a cornerstone of their psychic eusociality. They were Bound. At the time, she treasured the memories they'd shared. It nearly normalized such a relationship.

_Relationship. _The word made her spit. A link between a human and a Necromorph in itself was obscene. What it _signified_ was both sacrilegious and monstrous. She couldn't believe she used to love him! That was akin to a human fucking a dog. The Red God was indeed merciful to pardon such a grievous sin.

"We're a lot alike – you just had money when I didn't." That nearly made her stomp clean through his head like he was so fond of doing. He was nearly in tears, pouring his heart out to her, as if his crocodile sobs would budge her cold, dead heart. In actuality, something stirred within her. It felt like a cloud of bloating gas from her decaying innards.

"And I know _you _now, the woman who's dedicated her life to saving people. I envy that because it's so much more important than anything I've ever done. It's who you are." He sighed. "Maybe I've pressed you too hard to be 'human', whatever that means, and I'm sorry if I have. But the Marker isn't going to make you whole. It can't make you better. Being _with _others isn't the same as a connection. It's taken me too long to figure that out. Just because you share a link with someone doesn't mean they're your family!"

His voice cracked, and he went silent. The others chanted for her to make the kill. It should have been easy; his words were nothing but lies. Why, then, did they tear at the fabric of something deep within her? Why did they pluck at her soul, if indeed she had one? Everything she wanted was being given to her. That was the problem. The Red God claimed it could make her whole. She didn't believe that. The man shivering on the ground gave her more than her "father" ever did.

The air in her earholes bombinated, as if she was trapped in a microwave. A moment of calm… Then every atom, molecule and cell within her ripped itself apart. That's what it felt like, anyway. She saw stars, and it wasn't until seconds later that she realized she writhed along the ground, screaming. The pain was indescribable, so intense to the point of nearly being comedic. Her fractured mind tried to search for a suitable simile. _Like being dunked in acid, eaten by rats and chopped with a blunt machete at once._

_ **THAT WAS YOUR FINAL CHANCE! FROM NOW UNTIL THE END OF TIME, WE WILL SCORN YOU FOR YOUR TRANSGRESSIONS! I CANNOT IMAGINE WHAT PUNISHMENT MY MASTERS IN THEIR CAGES OF SLEEP WILL DREAM OF FOR YOU! MY CHILD, YOU ARE NOT!** _

Nicole vaulted up, and the pain, terror and suffering from within and without were temporarily smothered by satisfaction of throwing off the Red God's yoke and reclaiming her mind. Its "masters" would punish her, huh? Magnified by the hesitation she tasted in its words, it dawned on her.

It feared it would lose. For all its swagger and bravado, beings of flesh trounced it at every turn. Frustration became concern became anxiety as the hourglass emptied. Of course, that fear made the Red God a caged animal, fighting tooth and nail for any chance of survival. In that respect, at least, it resembled her and Curtis greatly.

_Curtis! _Her head pirouetted as it had during her brief ballerina days as a small child. She saw him, clumsily hauling himself up. More importantly, she saw _them._

Stalkers.

For a split second, she thought her four eyes deceived her. When one of them locked gazes with her, though, she knew it was all too real. Well, she always accepted she'd run into more of them. She just didn't expect it to be so visceral. One snapped her mouth. She stared into a mirror. Other Necromorphs may have been her siblings, but these were her twins! The family reunion got even more interesting once one of them charged at Curtis.

He sidestepped, nearly slipping in a puddle but anchoring himself at the last second. Nicole already sprinted for the discarded Line Gun, which lay atop a mound of soil. One of her kin zoomed past, nearly nicking her, but she was fast enough to avoid being tagged. No, not her kin. Like Curtis said, they didn't have to be her family if she didn't want them to be. The Red God already disowned her. Whether she desired the same…

_Curtis! Catch! _She heaved the weapon through the air, and he caught it without looking. A second was all it took to be back in the game. The circle temporarily broke, but it bore down moments later. A cascade of flesh, claws and screeches jostled toward them. There wasn't time enough to process anything. Both fell into their roles like clockwork. Like machines.

Stalkers normally attacked one at a time, but they were formidable enough that acting as shock troopers might prove more efficient. That explained the onslaught of about 10 forms crashing into them.

She dodged the hail of claws, amputating arms and legs with abandon but stopping short of anything "fatal". If there was one scrap of dignity she still clung to, it was that. She may not have accepted them as being relations, but she still didn't want blood on her hands. Poisoned air churned with screeches, squelches and occasional severed limbs that flew through the vines. Numbers hardly mattered. None of them could match her and Curtis' experience on the front lines. With a combination of slashes and shots, the last head rolled away, mouth still twitching. For a moment, the only sound was that of the ever-looped recording. She almost hoped it would stay that way.

"Hey," Curtis said from behind. She hunched her shoulders, unable to look at him. How could she when she came within an inch of murdering him? Only his thoughtful words broke through her trance. Shame greater than any she'd ever known strangled her. She wasn't worthy of his attention, let alone affection. "I know this might – "

Psychic spikes split the air, making her whirl around. They missed one, and it now pinned him to the ground, slashing and screaming while he barely held it at bay.

Though her legs were thin and lithe, they concealed great power. More, in fact, than she herself realized. The sight of his impending death made her desperately rocket forward. The patches of flesh on her face flapped back like someone sticking their head out a car window. Ringing in her head made it sound like she'd gone supersonic. The knives came down right as her cranium impacted her brother's torso. They flew 15 feet across the room before rolling even farther, but Nicole didn't fight it. Her opponent was already gone.

Curtis clanked closer as her eyes fell upon what remained of her (possible) brother – a split, hollow torso and gangly legs with bowels strewn out. Everything above the peritoneum had been deliquesced into rivulets and pebbles of gore by the force of her skull.

She killed one. How convenient she disavowed her former family. Now it wasn't fratricide. Shivering, she remained on the floor as Curtis rushed over. She just shook. He sat next to her. The next minute was spent mostly moaning in shame, though even addled and guilty, she remembered their mission. Eventually, she worked up the courage to look him… well, not in the eye, but the facial area. He was happy for it, she knew.

Really, she couldn't believe her luck finding him. Without his encouragement, she never would have been a person again. Never would have found love again. And she _did _love him, she decided (though she tried to keep that notion private). Nobody else could have done the amazing things he did. He sacrificed everything to help people – help _her _– and had such faith in her that he was willing to die to prove it. That gave her the courage to finally "speak".

_I'm sorry, Curtis. _Her head slumped as she got to her feet, feeling completely worthless before the man. He thought differently, but that didn't matter. She knew what she did was unforgivable.

_I did the same thing to you, _he replied. Which time? Yeah, they tangled before, but things were supposed to be different now. She wasn't strong enough to stop. He had to rip her mind free from its prison. That reminded her of something.

_It's what you said to you free me from that trance. You didn't say you loved me or try to plant a kiss on me. _It wouldn't have worked, and he'd be dead. It also showed his unshakeable trust in her. Might've been a pointless thing to dwell on, but that's what she kept returning to.

Satisfaction flowed from him to her, though she also felt the fear he desperately tried to hide. Amazing that they still lied to each other. _You give me credit for saying those things, but you should give yourself some for listening._

She sniffed the air again, taking in scents of flowers and blood. Blood that was partially on her hands now. Even to save him, she had still taken a life. It might not be the last. With that, they moved on, standing a little farther apart than before. The good news was that she couldn't detect anything else for a long way as they plodded along. Their first stop was a generic office, home to an orange blip.

The landscape, for land it was, became hypnagogic. The Corruption here was bulbous and distended, like it had been soaked in vinegar. The insults rolled in, but they rang duller and hollower than usual. Her guess was that the fumes stunted its development in some way. Speaking of which, those was the main source of surreality.

Methanol itself was colorless, but a cocktail of other compounds added to the effluvium. She couldn't begin to guess what, but the result was a brown-green cloud, smelling of alcohol, excrement and asparagus. Particles of shit floated around and clung to her skin – the inside of a latrine and a toxic waste dump combined. _Ugh. _She'd hose herself off after this.

Another mind entered her sphere of influence, as did a stuttering wheeze. Their schtick for such a situation was well rehearsed by now. Both pressed themselves against the wall, which suckled at them, and they peered around the corner.

The entity was the size of a regular human and curved into the fetal position. In fact, his vestigial limbs seemed webbed together like a cocoon, but he was otherwise very hominid. She even discerned a tattoo of the Black Marker on his neck, a sign of former religious affiliation. The only major mutations were the lungs. They assimilated all the organs within, for each of them was the size of his torso. Chemical reactions seethed within as they expanded and contracted, for the air heated and cooled with each shrill wheeze: endothermic and exothermic reactions burbled onward, converting air to poison. Clouds of gas billowed from his mouth.

Nicole and Curtis discarded stealth when it became apparent the most harm he could inflict was breathe at them. His head weakly swiveled toward them, revealing empty eye sockets.

_End me, if you must. It will not stop "Leviathan"._

_No, _she countered as Curtis walked up, cracking his knuckles. No point wasting precious power cells on something stagnant. _We will._

_I am truly sorry you cannot tolerate reality, _he replied. The sorrow was unrequited._ It is not your fault you are defective, and –_

His words were put to an abrupt end as Curtis' boot smashed his head open like a moldy melon. Shards of skull and residual bits of brain squirmed independently for a moment before their connection with the Red God was extinguished.

Wordlessly, thoughtlessly, they carried on. She _wanted _to talk with him, but neither had anything to say after Curtis' heartfelt speech. She knew he still feared her (and that was good, for only a crazy person could look upon her without some level of instinctual dread).

The second Wheezer (so fucking clever) was very close, and they reached it without the usual difficulty. It took everything they had and more to travail the perilous to Number 1, but Number 2 was like visiting a next-door neighbor. Not that she complained. Literally a minute later and two rooms down, another of her kin was sent home by a fist through its air sacks.

Curtis ran low on oxygen, she knew, so the duo navigated to a less hostile place before he pulled up the map again. The other pair of Wheezers was in the opposite end of their wing, in a land of fire and smoke.

Air Filtration.

**15 Hours, 45 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Curtis and Nicole plodded through the hall. Nice and cheery, with only a few parts of the wall trying to restrain him. Normally, the entire floor attempted to swallow him up, but standing water prevented that. How abso-fucking-lutely lucky he was. This might've been rock-bottom. He'd have to fall through the floor to go any lower. Never in his life had he felt such a tumultuous and horrible cauldron of emotion.

She tried to kill him. Then he forced her to kill her "brother". He burned inside, and he couldn't even take off his helmet to gasp for breath with the toxic fumes swirling around. Though he tried to present an amiable side, the simple truth was that he didn't know if he could trust her again. She terrified him. It was hypocritical to entertain the notion, considering he'd threatened her at times, but he wasn't a good person. Therefore, he wallowed in misery, and the hall seemed a walk of shame.

Nicole strode next to him, maintaining a respectful mental distance, hard as that was to comprehend. He was grateful that she respected his privacy, at least. She could've placated him with happy feelings like a cheap hit of uppers, but they agreed that was a bad idea; she didn't feel much better. Blissfully ignoring their problems was at best lying to each other and at worst a death sentence. Even with a damn psychic connection, they still had trouble talking.

"Do you want to talk about anything?" she finally asked. Nice to hear something that wasn't a voice chewing his mind like a cow munched cud.

"No, I don't," he replied. His voice cracked down the middle like a veiny asteroid. "What is there to?" Their issue was communication, yet it couldn't be solved with articulate thoughts or clever utterances. He was no psychologist, but he believed they approached their relationship the wrong way. "We've been so focused on talking. Maybe it's time we _listened_." It worked so far; Nicole was able to overcome the Marker by focusing on his words. And frankly, he barely had the energy to speak either with voice or mind.

Nicole pondered the idea. He could have glimpsed her mind's interior, but he didn't. Connecting with others came naturally to her, but such a link could be dangerous, as the events of the previous room proved. It was like peer pressure dialed up to 11. She could have fallen back into the hive mind, which constantly riled itself into a communal frenzy. Then again, isolation was equally dangerous for him, allowing the Marker to infect _his_ mind with its hatred. His and Nicole's natural states were anathema for both.

The air heated as they travelled, which Curtis welcomed. This detail was the cherry on top of a gory, rapidly melting sundae. The descent into Hell conspicuously lacked incalescence. Sure, there had been individual fires aplenty, but no towering inferno. Their destination would change all that. He'd stuck to Nicole's "more fluids" suggestion when he could, slurping bottles of water, tea and so on (and not soda) while holding his breath. It paid off, because getting heatstroke was a serious threat with these temperatures.

A red glow jigged on the walls and ceiling of the room they entered, and he glanced at the chemical burns arcing up Nicole's torso and arms from the Brute. They didn't bother her at all. In fact, he knew she considered them badass inasmuch as that mattered to her. This place might give her more.

The air filtration system loomed large before them. It looked like a collection of gigantic lit cigars, for flames licked at one end before blasting to the other as if from a dragon's maw. The system worked, he knew, by funneling plasmatic flame from the fusion engines and blasting it into the fresh atmosphere the vegetation produced. It incinerated pollen and biohazards. With patches of scorched Corruption, it reminded him of a game called _Dante's Inferno _he'd played a while back. Decent overall, but apparently right on the money in its depiction of Hades.

"Warning: air filtration system active, though intake has been blocked. Entering the filtration tubes is extremely hazardous," the AI proclaimed. Far more cogent than usual.

_Well, maybe we could clear it. Would that do anything? _he mused, really not having the slightest clue how this worked.

_Bad idea, _Nicole replied, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. _The same air in those tubes is being burned again and again._

_So? _he asked, staring at gouts of dancing flame.

_A funny thing about methanol – it's highly flammable. _Oh. That might be an issue. Those pipes would blow sky-high if they brought new air in. Maybe that'd be OK, but he didn't want to cause anymore explosions unless absolutely necessary.

_What should we do? _She hesitated before answering.

_I'm… not sure. Maybe we should ask Isaac. He's worked on these kinds of things before, I'm sure. _Yeah. That was a good idea. It'd be smart to check in with him if nothing else, with his odd behavior earlier. Still, it was a moot point until they reached the control panel, which he spied on the opposing catwalk. The one on this side was thoroughly pummeled by a caved-in ceiling… as was the footway linking the two halves. The only way forward was through the filtration system itself.

_Our luck sucks, doesn't it?_ he mused.

_It's pretty bad._ He expected it to be followed by "but at least we have each other" or some similar chestnut, yet none came. Honestly, he appreciated that. It didn't have to be said.

They descended rickety steps to the floor, which was littered with junk: mechanical components, "recycled" fertilizer for the greenhouses and an overturned trashcan were the first things to catch his eye. It was a mystery how this crap (literally, in the compost's case) ended up here. Maybe people too lazy to move it to the airlocks for dumping just burned it. Regardless, it made the scene feel even more like a dumping ground for the hopeless and forgotten. These things existed only for the fire that would soon consume them.

They crept to the kiln, putting their heads together and trying not to go blind from strobes of light; easier for him, as his suit filtered photons it deemed excessive. The RIG could handle a little fire of this temperature. Well, he didn't exactly know how hot this stuff was, but it was auburn instead of neon blue, so not the hottest it could get. A direct blast, though… At least he wouldn't become a Necromorph.

The more Curtis stared, the more doable it appeared. Three furnaces were placed next to each other with doorways linking them. They burned in a pattern: middle, closest, farthest. A musical chord played with brimstone. As long as they kept their footing and didn't hesitate, he believed they could make it across without being reduced to cinders.

"I'll go first," Nicole offered. She was much nimbler than him, so seeing her master this deadly race might improve his chances.

The sight of her weaving through the blazes lasted a precious few seconds, but he knew the memory would stay with him forever. Just about _everything_ in the past day would stick in the cracks of his brain, down to the most blasé conversations. Still, watching her whirl through the devouring inferno ranked among the highlights. She ran with such grace and deftness. He envied her. Then she sprung onto the far platform and gave him a smile. Malocclusion be damned, she was beautiful.

_I believe in you, _she said. Well, he'd better listen to that. He backed up and briefly considered dropping into a pre-sprint stance like a racer. No, better to just run. Run. Run! The closest hearth finished its plasmatic song, and that's when he barreled forward.

_Run. _His mind snapped him back the second he was about to charge into the middle tube. Good thing, too; he saw his own skeleton smile at him from within the conflagration. That moment of pause saved him from being reduced to ash. _Run! _He transitioned into the middle chamber and did the same thing with the last. Then he found himself outside the gauntlet. Took less than three seconds. That wasn't so bad. Not with everything else; he'd take a machine trying to kill him over a monster.

_Good job, _she said, sarcastically clapping him on the back like a coach would a not-so-great athlete. _You weren't quite as, um, _dynamic _as me, but you got through._

Then she pointed to the side, and he flinched when he saw the third Wheezer sucking up air. Those malformed creatures were nearly forgotten among fire and fury; he was almost happy to see them again. The malaise wasn't bad here with the incinerators three feet away burning its waste. Not very effective placement on the Marker's part.

Curtis could have simply squashed the thing like he had the others, but he had something a little more intense in mind to work off his anger. _If that's OK with you, of course. _He deferred to Nicole on this, for he didn't want to cause her undue distress with what he planned. She pondered the request before giving him the go-ahead.

_As long as it's fast. _Keeping that in mind, Curtis scooped up the thing. It struggled with the might of a sleepy caterpillar, and its flayed skin fractured more under his grasp. A gentle toss, and it sloshed around on the kiln's floor. It was the most pathetic Necromorph he had ever seen, and there were a couple of feeble ones. Dragon's breath ended it in a heartbeat. It puffed into noxious smoke that itself metamorphized as sparks. Like a magic trick, their problem had disappeared with a single action. He was pretty smug about that, but he didn't press the issue as they moved on.

The final Wheezer was in a cooling subsystem a few rooms back. Designed to keep the heat from overwhelming the deck, they found it pretty easily. It was frozen solid against the back wall. A single punch, and it shattered, leaving Curtis with an immense feeling of satisfaction. That took maybe another minute. Hot to cold to hot again, and the temperature oscillations made him dizzy as they came back to the control panel. Though the air quality hadn't changed, the place's "aura" (and he wasn't certain how accurate that term was) revised for the better. Not as much hatred around.

Curtis went ahead with their plan and keyed up his holo-projector. He found Isaac's RIG number and typed it in. After several unanswered rings, his stomach began to tie itself in knots. Nicole's apprehension leaked into his own mind. The ringing at last stopped, ending the call. His friend's head fell, and she expelled a long moan. In all likelihood, Isaac was dead. The notion glued his feet to the floor. All he could do was bask in her perfect sadness while debating whether to give her a hug.

"Uh, hello?"

The words redirected their attention to his RIG, which now crackled with the sounds of ponderous footsteps. Joy spiked in Nicole's mind – he must have picked up and not said anything. A long, hissing breath forced its way from Curtis' lungs.

"Isaac," he gasped, trying to contain his own relief. "You had us so worried." There was no response other than the monotonous footfalls. That confused him; the engineer wasn't the chattiest person around, but he said more than this! Nicole shared his doubts. Then again, maybe he was just tired. "Can you help us out with something?"

"What do you need?"

He left it to Nicole to describe the issue, for it went over his head. Instead, he hung back and listened. Isaac's answers were mostly monosyllabic: yes, no, maybe. On the rare instances she elicited a full sentence, it was slurred a little. Still, he seemed to be mentally sound, for he directed them just fine. A few button presses made sure the bad air seeped in slowly so the deck didn't go up in flames.

"All right. We'll see you soon, Isaac," Nicole said right before he hung up. As soon as he was off, her cognizance exploded. _We need to get back to him!_

…

Nicole's body was wracked with suspense as they sped back to Atmospheric Processing. _Isaac, _was all she could think, as well as the permutations of danger he might be in. Something was very wrong with him, probably related to the Red God. _I should have gone with him! _Curtis didn't try to reassure her, which. Words wouldn't help her, nor was she the one who needed help. Listening, not speaking.

Before too long, they were back in the room with the fans, which were now activated. They pumped pure air into Food Storage, courtesy of Isaac. He stood by the console, waiting for them with his helmet off. The blank expression lapsed into a small smile when he saw them, which heartened her a bit. Blades chopped the air, and she worried, no matter how outlandish the possibility, that one would fly off and go through his head.

"Are you feeling all right?" she asked, walking toward him. She wanted to run, but maybe he was paranoid! Didn't want to set him off. But he _looked _fine, and she lacked the knowledge to diagnose mental deficiencies. It would be better to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Yeah," he demurely replied, seeming lost in thought. Her tensed shoulders relaxed a bit, especially when he looked away. Perhaps she overreacted. "I feel fine." Their eyes met for a moment, and she plumbed them for every ounce of truth within. It was difficult discern their honesty; exhaustion took its toll, and they no longer burned with the same passion for her they used to. "Really."

_I'll deal with this later, _she thought. They still had a monster unlike any other to defeat, and concerning herself with mental health wasted precious time. "Are you ready to finish this?"

"Yes." On that, he was far more decisive.

Curtis reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out his necklace, the miniature Enigma mask and the canister of toxin. Obviously, only the last was of any important, so he stowed the other two. However, she could have sworn Isaac's eyebrow twitched when he spotted the mask… like Kendra. _Hmm. _He then shoved it into the air pump and set it direct for Food Storage. The contents would be pumped there, deadly enough to kill even an undead Leviathan.

"Un-un-unknown antigen_nnnnnn_ injected into _ednpifwfjo_ystem," the AI said. Both her and Curtis were on edge as the machine whirred, imagining the venom snaking its way into mountains of flesh. Isaac was less engaged but still curious enough. They waited. Waited. _Waited…_

A low rumble started from rooms away. At first, Nicole thought it was another system failing, but the tones crescendoed into a deep, guttural roar, and a mind greater than any she'd touched sans the Red God's (and whatever lived beyond and above it) met hers: multifaceted and all-encompassing, it recoiled in agony. Agony… but not destruction. That realization hit Curtis, whose stomach dropped into his feet.

"Damn it!" Kendra said, ripping up from his chest. Her hair clung to her forehead with sweat. "The poison wasn't strong enough. That thing is still alive!" Nicole racked her brain for solutions but came up with nothing. Medical was too far away to whip up another dose. The only option seemed to be going in personally… which was exactly the plan.

"Get in there and kill it before it contaminates the entire ship!" If possible, she would have torn her way through the phantasmal screen to throttle them. "It's our only chance," she said, calming down the slightest bit. "I'm sorry it came to this."

"It's all right, Kendra," Isaac replied. "We all did our best." How Zen. Honestly, whatever happened to him, she almost envied it. She would face her end shaky and terrified while he seemed more or less at peace. Suddenly, she felt bad for thinking of his radical acceptance of the situation as something suspect. With a trembling hand, Curtis reversed the system and redirected the poison to the incinerators.

This was a suicide mission. Still, Nicole wouldn't have wanted to die any other way. Her chest fluttered as Curtis opened the airlock, and they found themselves staring down the tunnel leading to Food Storage. Red lights flickered on the ceiling, going out every few seconds. They illuminated thick Corruption on the outside of the transparent tube, which expanded and contracted every few seconds, doubtlessly pumping out more of the noxious bile.

They stepped inside, and she noted long cracks in the glass as they crept along. The molasses-slow thoughts of eternal decay emanated from all sides; they were inside the Leviathan's guts, mere cells in its bloodstream. That afforded them an element of surprise, at least, for it was still focused on the immense pain inflicted on it. It would be weaker, but even so, something of this scale would be the most brutal fight any of them ever faced.

A minute later, they reached a fork. One passage went left and one right, but both led to the correct chamber according to Curtis' map. They would again split up to cover more ground, but it seemed less cruel this time, for Isaac would still be close.

"I'll see you on the other side, Isaac," she whispered to him. The last she saw of his face was a hollow stare before it was consumed by the helm.

**16 Hours Post-Outbreak**

Curtis quivered in his fucking boots. Were it not for Nicole's equally shaky hand gripping his own, he would have fallen backward. Once away from Isaac, he had to risk getting more "intimate" so he didn't fall over. The only thoughts running through his head were ones of horrible, horrible death.

Rounding a corner, they found themselves at a small waystation and a passage to Food Storage, locked down as the serum was flushed away. Once it was, they would charge in and in all likelihood get slaughtered. Still, that was all they could do. Maybe they could buy enough time for Hammond and Kendra escape. His life would mean something if he helped even one person claw their way from this accursed tomb. He sighed, letting his hand droop from hers.

He'd known terror before. It became his constant companion over the past days, travelling with him both subconsciously and physically in the guises of the Shadow Man and fake Nicole. He slew demons real and imaginary, climbed mountains, forded valleys and faced challenges he never imagined in his wildest dreams.

Somehow, he'd survived it all. Many people would say that made him a hero, as if simple endurance was laudable. Others – Necromorphs – would call _him _the fiend for disrupting the only life they knew. However, he considered himself neither hero nor villain. He was merely a man who wanted to survive for reasons he didn't entirely understand. To save humanity? Why should he. They'd never done a damn thing for him. Himself? He was utterly expendable.

This was his darkest hour. There was never a guarantee he could make it from one end of a room to another without being mulched, speared or eaten. Standing there, he broached the precipice of utter destruction. More likely than not, he'd never make it out of Food Storage, but he had to try! That was the only way to heal his regrets and make up for his many, many failures.

Speaking of mistakes, his heart stopped when his gaze met Nicole's equally terrified visage. This might be his last chance to confess his feelings. They were pretty much out in the open, but they needed to be declared – for his own sake, at least.

He bit his lip before retracting his helmet, catching only the faintest whiff of alcohol once he did. Her four eyes met his two, glowing like opalescent pearls or tiny embers in their sockets. Her slender arms and legs twitched as if blown by a harsh breeze. Where most would perceive a monster, he saw a beautiful woman. Damn anyone who told him otherwise.

"N-Nicole, it's been an honor to travel with you and be your friend." He managed to keep the sentence glued together, but a single twinge would send the house of cards down, and he'd start blubbering. "You're such a good person! You're compassionate, smart; I've learned so much from you." Her face broke out in a bright smile, mandibles parting to reveal her crooked fangs.

With that gesture, his spirit collapsed, and he started bawling. He'd never considered himself eloquent before this trip, though his oratory skills had grown considerably if breaking mind control was any indication. Now, though, he struggled to find words and even syllables like a fish trying to flop back into the sea. He'd cried dozens of times in the previous hours, but never over love! It made him feel like a child.

"What I'm trying to say is that I love you," he sobbed. "I – I know it doesn't make sense, but when I look at you, I feel something nobody has ever given me before. You still kind of scare me, but I've never been closer with anyone in my life!" His own skull was silent; she processed the words while he cried.

Strong hands lifted him up, and a long claw gently wiped the tears from his eyes. Through the haze, he saw _warmth_, more than ever before.

"Curtis… I wish I had the daring to think of such praises for you." Her ragged voice was so quiet he nearly thought she spoke in his mind. "You're a good man with a good heart, and I've never met anyone so brave. The truth is that I scare myself more than I scare you. I've come so close to falling back into what I was. You're the only reason I'm still Nicole. You gave me my life back, Curtis. I love you, too."

"You've helped me straighten out, as well," he replied, wiping the snot from his nose. Nothing sexier than that. They completed each other in mind, and maybe now in more than that. They were better together than alone. They made each other whole.

What happened next was never up for debate; Curtis knew it would happen, and his heart pounded like a jackhammer because of it: a kiss.

Oh, he'd kissed people before – and not just on the lips. It never meant anything. That's just what one did while whispering sweet nothings about love as hollow as the person who spoke them. This was different, passionate. That zeal hardly prepared him for making out with someone whose mouth was closer to a mutated raptor's than anything else.

The problem was that Nicole didn't have lips. That was what he noted as she smashed her uncovered teeth into his mouth. He didn't concentrate on the tang of rancid meat nor the aroma of dirt, blood and strange pheromones – he'd been around these things so much they were unpleasant but bearable.

His cheeks were suddenly tickled when the sides of her maxillae came back, caressing his cheeks. It was akin to sticking one's face in a bubble bath, and he imitated this as well as he could with his hands, though he knew he fell short. For a moment, he contented himself with running his tongue across her misaligned, dagger-like teeth. Both the purring and waves of pleasure let him know he did enough, and his heart raced at the sheer kink of making out with a zombie.

Then her mouth opened, her own organ snaking out. It shot down his throat, nearly making his gag reflex kick in. He saw stars, and it felt more like a cock than a tongue until she retracted it. It went all around his mouth, perhaps even flipped it upside-down. Slippery as a squid, and tasted like one, too… if he was being generous. As things got heated, his thumping, hormone-filled brain tangentially realized they had fallen onto a bench by the wayside. This hardly mattered, and he pushed his face even deeper into her own; any sane person walking by would think she tried to eat him! _Please don't bite my tongue off, _he conveyed to her through his bliss. That would ruin the moment.

She was perfect. He ran his hands across her bumpy scalp while she tussled his hair with her claws. They settled into their kiss. His stomach settled slightly when she popped a question.

_You've felt my mind before, _she thought, _my pain, my joy. Would you like to feel something else?_

The inquiry was topped with such a playful inflection that he couldn't help but agree. Then, in a second, it felt like his brain had been shoved into someone else's body – _hers. _He felt everything from the opposite perspective; suddenly, the claws and talons and everything belonged to him. It only lasted an instant, but it opened a new world of feeling. For a single second, he lacked a heart or even a brain!

_That is how you make me feel, _she elaborated. She shared her _physical _sensations instead of emotional for the first time. Combined, he understood she loved this moment as much as she loved him. He took a deep breath before embracing her again, happier than he'd ever been in his life.

…

Nicole loved Curtis. There, she finally said it, admitted it to them both. She believed that confession, regardless of how trashy it was with Isaac a room away, would quell her feelings.

The fact her face was buried in his made her reconsider.

She shouldn't have felt bad. Isaac and she amicably parted ways, and there was nothing wrong with finding someone else. That's what she told herself, but it didn't shake the notion she betrayed him. She shoved the thoughts aside so Curtis didn't have to deal with her angst during his ecstasy. Wasn't nearly as enjoyable for her. Him brushing his soft tongue over her fangs and rubbing her scalp were pleasant feelings, yet nowhere in the ballpark of his euphoria.

Once, this would have thrilled her, exploring the body of another to a degree that approached sex. Those desires faded with death. Libido was a thing of the past for her, rendering her asexual. Hormones like estrogen were no longer produced by her body, and her cognizance organized itself away from such desires. No point of sex when Necromorphs didn't require it to reproduce. He moaned again, and she rolled her eyes while playing the part.

That's why she presented what her _body _experienced instead of her _spirit. _Actions and sensations that meant little to her were interpreted by him as erotic. Revealing her mind would show that she was pretty damn bored right now, merely counting down the seconds until the door unlocked and they could die.

Turned on or not, she was more than happy to do this with Curtis. She loved him with all her heart for the qualities she extolled him for. Getting this out of his system was healthy and cathartic.

He had so much love to give, and no one to give it to. She was glad to share it.

Still, she was relieved when he broke away the final time. His lips were covered with blood, which he wiped with his begloved hand. Didn't remove it so much as spread it across his cheeks, which she giggled at.

"T-that was incredible," he stammered. "I hope you liked it, too."

"Maybe not the same way you did… but yes." They still rode on their respective highs when a soft _ding _yanked their attentions away from each other and toward the door. It was unlocked. Those good feelings were immediately washed away by existential dread. In all likelihood, this was the end. The Leviathan beckoned them in.

"I love you," Curtis whispered again.

"I love you, too."

She took his hand in hers, and they went through.


	22. Never Let Me Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everybody! Sorry this took so long. There've been so many issues with my college housing I almost would have preferred a Necromorph invasion at times… not that that would surprise me in 2020. It was nice to unwind with a fun, popcorn-munching fight scene instead of something longer and dramatic. This is the shortest chapter in a while.
> 
> Speaking of word count, I have surpassed 500,000 words across all my stories on this account [on FF.net, mind you, bu the sentiment applies here]. This is small fry compared to some authors who have logged much higher numbers, but it's more than I ever thought myself capable of. It's been an absolute pleasure writing for you all, and I earnestly hope that I one day reach 1,000,000.
> 
> Special thanks to THEROCKETETEURE, JASONVUK, OBLIVIOKNIGHT7, ACCELERATOR7460, RABIDPANZER, CELFRDDERWYDD, DERPYSAUCE, OBOL and ANCIENTOFDAYZ for dropping reviews. They always add spice to my day.

**16 Hours, 15 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Curtis descended from the high of his kiss with Nicole into a bottomless pit. This was more than a metaphor; the darkness engulfing Food Storage rivaled a black hole. Only fragments of light poured from the aperture behind them, as well as another _on the ceiling_, with a figure silhouetted against it!

He almost had a heart attack until he noted the floating globs of flesh. They hardly calmed him, but he realized this was a zero-gravity room rather than paranormal activity. OK, good, Isaac was around, though he couldn't gauge how far. 100 yards, maybe. Big place. Had to be to store months of rations for thousands of people.

Automatic systems detected life within. The lights – translucent plates in the curved floor – revealed the room. He really wished they hadn't. The bulbs threw images of pulsating veins and muscles like demented shadow puppets, for they shone through layers of unliving flesh.

The chamber was a standard cylindrical area, albeit completely disgusting. Nothing surprising about that. Like the mining bay, such environments maximized space and work efficiency when unhindered by the good old 9.81 meters per second squared. Average enough in that department. The standard array of body parts and miscellanea bumped and spun around. One very large detail made this particular compartment of Hell stand out, however.

The far wall was no longer a barrier at all, but a massive, eldritch horror, spanning from one end of the expanse to the other. 100 yards, Curtis was increasingly sure. It was equally long, judging from his trek through its guts. Reminded him of a corpulent tapeworm wedged tight into an intestine. Nothing he'd ever faced approached its mass. "Leviathan" was the only word to do it justice.

Thousands of appendages – arms, legs, even heads – hung from its exposed flank like tiny cilia. These were dwarfed by three enormous tentacles which lazily drifted around. These in turn ringed the center of its mass: a mouth/rectum with countless tiny teeth made from bony fragments. Reminded him of a certain monster from that ancient vid he quoted to Nathan.

Altogether, it relegated the Graverobber and the Spider to the relative danger of house pets. This was the very creature whose name it bore, and it put the fear of God in Curtis. How fitting that he had another deity on his side (metaphorically; the Black Marker made no claim to divinity). That was only fair, but he still trembled.

Curtis expected it to promptly swat them like gnats, but nothing happened.

_It's unconscious, _Nicole told him. He noted something about the words, and not the actually important aspect. "It". Nicole surreptitiously assigned genders to her "siblings", even when composed of multiple people. The Leviathan must have transcended sex by basis of its enormity. _The poison wasn't strong enough to kill it, but it disrupted neurological functions; its mind is gone for the moment, merely echoes. _Very good. Ideal, in fact! His brain hopped from terror to crunching abstract numbers. His girlfriend helped immensely.

Probably not the time to stake such romantic claims, though. _OK, maybe we can ambush it while it's down. What if we try –_

A single gunshot, and his plans went to pieces like glass punctured by a speeding bullet. Isaac fired his weapon from on high, poking the Leviathan with the comparative might of a ballpoint pen. A distant peal of thunder followed a few seconds later once sound caught up to light.

Curtis hoped the attack was so pathetic the great beast would even notice. It's not like humans descried every time a mosquito bit them. But it squirmed, flailing its tendrils and pursing its massive chops. Curtis' knees gave out, though that didn't really matter in zero-g; his feet remained anchored to the floor by grav-boots while his upper half jiggled about. Maybe he also pissed himself. Difficult to discern. Even without eyes, its protruding, meaty maw pointed toward them; the whole room was a gigantic sensory organ.

Damn it, Isaac.

…

Nicole careened through the air while Curtis limply held onto her ankle. They sailed through a sea of dust and metal and carnage stirred up when the Leviathan smashed its tentacles across the chamber. It was a scene from myth – bursts of lightning from Isaac's Plasma Cutter (and he must have found a cache of power cells during his half of Wheezer extermination, for they kept coming) split the miasma, allowing brief glimpses through the green fog of tendrils and teeth.

Its mind was even worse; incomprehensible and rabid because of its mass and the fact it was an amalgamation of plant and animal tissue rather than human. The mixture created a maddening consciousness as deep and wide as the ocean they crossed. To get lost in it would be to drown.

She saw a couple of good points and many bad ones about their situation. At least they had a better grasp of their enemy, how monstrous and primeval it was. However, they possessed no means of hurting, much less destroying, the monster. Isaac also disappeared into the storm, and Curtis was in no position to contact him! The best they could do was try to trace his "bullets" to the source.

Many other negative factors, but she lacked the time to consider them as her cranium smashed into the bulkhead. It would have crumpled if not designed to take hits, but it still sounded like a bomb detonated in her skull. Her body vibrated like a gong, and it took Curtis' hands to steady her, though he hardly did much better.

"W-what are we going to do?!" he stammered. Less than a minute since the Leviathan woke and they already scrambled to stay afloat in a sea of grime and ghosts.

"I don't know!" she shouted over ear-splitting roars. This was one of those times their normal internal dialogue didn't quite cut it. Their options were horribly limited. Leaving would seal Hammond and Kendra's demise; they needed to improvise here and now! No ammunition, no cover, and no way to take it down. The three primary appendages were 20 feet in diameter! They couldn't be severed, and the old "blow it up from within" trick wouldn't work because they didn't have explosives!

They reached the end of their rope, but something had to be done! Surely there was a trick to kill this thing! Right? There had always been something before, some clever way to remove these obstacles.

A limb with the girth of an ancient redwood tree impacted to their left. Thick fistulas squirmed beneath the surface, practically popping through. The action gave her pause but not panic. Not until it swept toward them, creating a wake of gas and dust.

She snapped from watching the wave just soon enough for her and Curtis to ascend the crest without being splattered by 1,000 tons of muscles. Vertigo set in as she spiraled out of control, and she became convinced disequilibrium would kill her before any being of flesh. Metal and crud whirled around.

The Leviathan's mouth loomed large in the center, framed by the halo of kicked up debris – the hurricane's eye and hurricane proper rolled into one as Isaac loosed lightning. The Red God may have been divine in the mind's eye, but not the eye itself. Leviathan was just that – the unbridled destructive capacity of a god without the intelligence or charisma to match. Two halves of the same coin.

Having regained his capacity for movement, Curtis grabbed her shoulder and braked hard with his thrusters, spinning them to a halt in the void. They circled each other, hands clasped, like a dream within a nightmare.

This was their one area of relative safety. The Corruption couldn't signal its master where they were, and its blind slapping was unlikely to hurt them based on the room's sheer volume. That hardly meant it was good to linger, especially with her boyfriend's squishy, fragile form.

Curtis' air dipped with each breath. Though the room had been flushed of toxins immediately before they entered, she underestimated how quickly it would refill. It made sense, though; altering the atmosphere of a ship as big as the Ishimura so quickly meant transmuting at an incredible rate. It probably poisoned the room again within seconds, pumping venom from its pores. Must have been a Wheezer on steroids, with chemical reactions within converting oxygen into toxins like reverse photosynthesis. Ironic, considering it was mostly made of plants.

She scanned the room, desperately searching for unconventional solutions, but it'd be useless unless the Leviathan was weak to random shit being flung at it with kinesis! Nothing sparked her inspiration.

_Spark… _Her eyes flew from fulminating bolts to Curtis to the Leviathan to the very air around them, choked with smog. It clicked.

_I know a way to beat it, _she thought, at which point her boyfriend practically smashed his mind into hers to get it.

Methanol was flammable, as she taught Curtis, and the entire room swam in it. They could use the tube as a makeshift filtration chamber, the same kind in which they danced through fire. A single spark, and Food Storage would conflagrate into a titanic fireball, possibly taking out all of Hydroponics. Goodbye Leviathan… and all of them. A horrendous sacrifice, yet that barely registered.

The question was how to start the fire. They racked their collective brain space, one tentacle brushing too close for comfort and shoving them with the air it displaced. The plasma Isaac dispatched wasn't flame itself, but the superheated material should have broached methanol's autoignition temperature. Maybe it travelled too quickly to have an effect. Curtis could abuse his weapon and hoped it shorted, but that was their lifeline. Was there any other way?!

_Think! _Nicole demanded of herself over internal gibbering and external thunder. In her mind's eye, the Red God eclipsed all that was or ever would be. It should have made her cower in fear, the human part of her knew, but it was a completely average sight for a Necromorph. She'd never quite reconciled those worlds, but she needed to for both herself and Curtis. They couldn't build a good future until she discerned who she was as a person.

A living stone ringed by metal walls and flesh. If nothing else, it would be a killer cover for a death metal album.

_That's it! _Curtis exclaimed from beside her, seeing what burned into her mind from a different angle. He was horrified, of course, but more than that, he had a plan. _Rock and metal? Don't you get sparks if you hit those together?_

She stared at his softly glowing visor, imagining the eyes beyond, and felt her mouth splay into a smile. _You're smarter than you give yourself credit for. _A bolt of plasma whizzed feet away, casting heat on the side of her face; Isaac was getting sloppy. _But what will you use? _They didn't have any stone on them, and every metal surface was engulfed with undead, pulsating meat.

_Do you remember what's in my pocket? _Nicole pondered for a moment before nodding. There were no more appropriate fire starters. Only one problem remained. One needed oxygen to form a spark, and there was none left in the room. Not enough for their needs, anyway.

There was only one source large enough to be viable, and she didn't want to say it. She couldn't. If she did, Curtis would be irrevocably lost to her forever. _Forever. _She understood a thing or two about "forever" being a child of infinity. Whatever lived behind the Markers was eternal; it or they would exist long after both of them turned to dust. Ergo, she remained mum.

…

"You know something," Curtis demanded. Nicole's energies hummed and rattled, marking her deceit as the Leviathan whipped up miniature tornados. Their connection made it nearly impossible to lie or withhold information. The fact she did it regardless meant it came with a great and terrible price.

"I can't tell you. You'll die." He didn't care. At least, he didn't want to! He wasn't suicidal – not with her protection. More than anything, he wanted to live, to go home, to sleep in his bed and shower and spend all the money he had on ice cream and real meat and eat until he was stuffed. He wanted to forget all of this except Nicole and for people to treat her like a normal human being and to live a happy life!

But that was a fantasy akin to a child wishing for a pet unicorn. Less probable, in fact. A unicorn could probably be genetically engineered with horse and narwhal DNA as a designer pet. Money couldn't buy happiness or social acceptance or convince the Necromorphs to let them go.

He had to be realistic. Little chance they could all escape. He wanted to live, but dying to save others… that would be an even greater prize. It was all he had left.

"Come on, Nicole! You have to!" Would have been down on his knees if that were physically possible. More lightning, more roars! The mental strain made their psychic barriers begin to crumble, and hallucinations seeped through the cracks, inundating him with whispers suddenly _begging _for him to live. Funny how they turned on a dime.

"I don't want to lose you," she pleaded, already knowing it was for naught. "You're my everything. You're literally the only thing in the universe I have left!"

"I don't have anything, either. But other people do. Isaac has a mother, I heard him say. I don't know Kendra and Hammond well, but they must have more than me." He was nothing. It was as Kyne said hours or lifetimes ago – being able to die without responsibilities was a glorious thing. But it also meant he had to be the one to make that kind of sacrifice. Would've done so without hesitation were it not for the woman in front of him.

"Your air," she choked out. "You'll need to vent whatever oxygen is left in your RIG to make a spark." OK, so he really was going to die. Surviving immolation was slim, but doing the same while also suffocating would be next to impossible.

Nevertheless, he scrambled for his flint and steel while Nicole remained, wanting to stand by him until the end. He had to squint to avoid meeting her liquid gaze.

Between hallucinatory flashes of words and faces and bouts of pain from his organs, Curtis was an utter mess. His hands spasmed as he yanked the Enigma mask and Sam's miniature Marker necklace from their pouches. Shocking that he found a solution in them, but his mind was never far from the trinkets and their significance. The Markers were his hopes and fears compressed into two diametrically opposed twins at war – from his perspective good and evil, but he suspected their morality was more orange and blue than black and white, based on parameters inconceivable to him.

The mask was more enigmatic (ha!), the manifestation of a group he knew nothing about. However, its significance was not lost on him. An organization the Black Marker warned him to beware must have been deadly, indeed. Even Nicole flinched when she spotted the stoic, empty gaze of its tiny, not-quite-human eyes. It had that effect whenever her kind spotted it. Maybe there some sort of Necromorph racial animus or trauma about the institution, some terrible event that hid in their Jungian collective unconscious.

His only guess was that they had some history with the Marker, probably when it was dredged up from the seafloor 300 years prior. Possibly related to Unitologists, at least high-level ones. But why? Convergence was what the Church wanted to bring about. Shouldn't they have been allies? None of it made sense, though he supposed the truth would unravel if he lived long enough to see it.

Another deafening scream slackened his grip on the artifacts. They careened into the mist, and Curtis nearly wept… until his remembered his kinesis. Oh, yeah. He didn't get as many chances to use that as he expected. His right hand whipped around, and he simultaneously snagged both items in his phantom clutch before they dissolved into discolored darkness.

His oxygen dipped by the second, and his heart rate only made it burn faster. The bar in his HUD dropped from green to yellow, the same as his "health". He forced his lungs to pump to slower to ensure enough catalyst for his makeshift bomb. Finally, he turned his attention to Nicole, ringed in smoke and illusory hands grappling her, ripping her face apart. It hurt so much to see, even though he knew it a lie. The Marker's sentiment still pained him.

"Nicole… you have to get out of here." He spoke quietly, the Leviathan having ceased its tantrum for a moment.

"I'm not leaving. I already said I'm not going to lose you." God, he was in such a bind. Though he wanted to shove her toward the exit, the desire made him such a hypocrite. If their roles were reversed, he would've wanted to face death head-on with her. "If this actually works, you'll suffocate! _You'll_ be the one who needs help!" That assumed he wasn't incinerated in the blast, which he certainly hoped to be. Nothing would be left of him to come back. He wanted to remain in her recollections as more than a shambling, charred husk of brittle meat.

"We'll never really be apart," he said, tapping his temple, though Nicole remained unimpressed. It didn't comfort him much, either. The good thing was that some of his memories lived in her, having flowed from him across their link. "It's better than nothing. Plus, Isaac needs you. He's not gonna jump ship because I yell at him." He let out a forced bitter laugh which tasted of venom and ire. Humor didn't help the situation, so he tossed it away entirely.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and stared deep into her eyes, trying not to be hypnotized by the beautiful golden dots. Her mandibles fluttered in time with her soul.

"I _need _you to survive Nicole." Heh. "Survive". The word must have held such cruel irony for her. Really, though. He would have loved for her to stand by him to the end. "None of this is fair. I wish we could have gotten more than a few hours together, but staying behind won't help anyone." He closed his eyes to hide from hers, and he was back in one of his many childhood homes. Distant thunder drummed on the tin can roof, booms from nearby heavy industry, too. A rainy day in the North Carolina Hubs, but he had shelter, at least. She was his safeguard now, and it made what he said next all the more painful.

"I need you to leave because I love you."

Tears floated in his helmet, bursting against the HUD and his face as he silently wept until jarred to reality by suction on the outer metal. His eyes flew open, though he already knew the cause; Nicole _did_ it, after all. Her face was buried in his mask in the most charming pantomime of affection one could make at such a time.

"I love you, too," she replied while drawing back. Her fears hadn't been assuaged, but she understood why this needed to happen. "Now kick its ass."

"You bet," he replied, still sniffling, before giving her a shove in roughly Isaac's direction. They gave each other a long look before she faded away, and Curtis nearly screamed. All alone now, just thoughts, memories, the ever-encroaching madness and impending death. One minute of air left in the can. He hoped that would be enough.

He issued a series of commands on his holo-screen. It needed to be triple checked so the system knew he was serious instead of joking or inputting the wrong directives. Eventually, though, he got it. Taking a final deep breath, he pressed a button. The remaining 30 seconds of oxygen were vented out through ports near the spine, making his eyes water, while a benign blend of nitrogen and argon was pumped in as a last resort. Common spacer knowledge held that one could stay conscious and without brain damage for approximately three minutes after losing oxygen. The N/Ar combination boosted that to maybe _four, _since he wouldn't be suffocating on carbon dioxide.

He tapped the symbols together, hoping his iconoclasm would literally burn down the world. Nothing happened. A little harder, and still no dice. Hmm, maybe he was supposed to scrape or rub them instead of going head-on. It's not like he'd ever lit a fire before. Nobody he'd ever met probably had! "C'mon," he muttered, trying to conserve every molecule of oxygen left.

_Don't do this, _a voice whispered in mind. Curtis knew who – _what _– it was without the benefit of sight, not that he particularly wanted to spin around and face it. Confront his fears, yadda yadda, but that wasted time. He didn't have to worry about that, though, for the phantom drifted into view, anyway.

"Nicole's" skin was bloodied and burned. Glowing, hollow eyes spilled their optic nerves out, and they listlessly dangled. Her medical RIG was torn, revealing her rib cage and whatever organs – no, he wasn't going to indulge this nonsense. He'd seen enough gore that he could comfortably stroll through a slaughterhouse. He wouldn't give this thing the time of day. _There's still time to escape. Tell my body you changed your mind. That you want to live and spend the rest of your life with her. Me._

Oh, she tried to be sympathetic after countless hours of haranguing, serenading him with "her" love. Should've shot her in the face for implying she and the real Nicole had anything in common beyond being, well, dead. Still, he sensed she couldn't manipulate his body as she had in the past. There was enough of a bond left still between him and the real Nicole. Accordingly, it needed to butter him up for anything to really stick, and that wouldn't happen.

He struck his tools together, already feeling tendrils of heavy, eternal sleep wrap around his brain. In that sense, engaging with the phantasm was a boon. Kept him aware, at least.

_You're the avatar of a giant rock, not real yourself, _he replied without a second thought. Another close call with one of the massive limbs, which gently propelled him into the aether. _Hey, Marker? Why don't you fuck off while I blow up your favorite kid? _It felt fantastic to taunt the monstrous effigy, and he felt its mind seethe behind the curtain of civility.

_You're wrong, _fake Nicole lied, stalking him as a ghost. _I am real. _Strange how well a psychopathic elder evil could imitate a woman, regardless. Her mannerisms were pretty spot-on, and he should know. While he didn't want to call her "the love of his life", he'd become intimate with Nicole and recognized her various tics and quirks. _You're going to leave me alone if you do this! Leave me with that bastard Isaac. I want you, not him!_

He would have spat at her if not for the visor. The Red Marker could be a terrifying force in the correct circumstances, but it was now often a sniveling nuisance. When beaten at its own game again and again, it could do nothing but plead. He didn't even need the Black Marker's assistance (though he sensed its mirth and sadness deep in the background).

His hands jittered as he scraped, struck, shaved and chiseled the mementos into each other. Shards of stone and steel glinted in the half-light and swirling shadows, which encompassed more space as his body begged for oxygen. He needed to light this _now, _before the catalyst dissipated.

_Knew I should've looked for a flamethrower! _Steel and stone smacked together again, and his ears rang as the apparition shrieked directly into his fried brain. Yeah, now it was back to being a bitch! He could work with this!

_You can't do this, Curtis! _she screeched, pressing her decaying face into his own. _You're too stupid and too slow! _Yeah, but his head was thick as an anvil, and he'd had a modicum of success with that. If Nicole solved problems by smashing her skull into them, then so could he.

"Light!" he screamed, taking the toxins into his lungs while slamming the tools together one last time with all his strength, pulling muscles all along his arms. That was the end of the Marker necklace, the last gasp of a tenuous faith. Already riddled with cracks, it crumbled into a million pieces. His iconoclasm was not in vain, however; a single spark hung in the remains of a broken body.

"It's about – " The world went bright, and then all too dark.

…

Nicole finally found Isaac. She veered through the maelstrom, unhindered by gravity yet inextricably bound by time. She'd never forgive herself if Curtis died because of the knowledge she imparted. Still, she was so proud of him. There had never been anyone so brave. Curtis would sacrifice his life for those he barely knew. That kind of courage was supposed to be dead, yet it survived in this one man. That's one reason she loved him.

Isaac stood anchored to the living ground, his muscles so taut they practically bulged through layers of metal and fabric. His snarling visor was like the head of a beast as he pelted the Leviathan with petty attacks.

There was no doubt in her mind Isaac finally succumbed to dementia, wilting before her. His own "Nicole" probably tormented him into burning through the hundreds of rounds he must have stumbled across on his own quest. Utterly devious. Even if the Red God's stranglehold wasn't strong enough to make him kill himself, it decimated valuable resources! Fuck this thing!

Space rumbled as the Leviathan thrust a tipped tentacle toward them. It barreled from the right, ready to splatter or perhaps impale him depending on its rigidity. She neither waved her arms nor shouted to warn him. It would confuse him, and he might turn the Cutter on a flying Necromorph. Both her and the appendage rushed forward, breaking the clouds and spiraling, spiraling. She chomped down on her tongue to not yell.

An impact, then a freight train of brown, pink and black flashing in the corner of her four eyes. She got to him first. The tension in her stomach remained; there were seconds left until Curtis lit the fuse. Isaac kept shooting until she clamped a claw over the gun to break his cycle of chaos.

"You aren't helping!" she finally bellowed into his face, at which he was cowed into submission.

Curtis' bond became fuzzy. He choked on nitrogen/argon soup, so at least he wouldn't be poisoned. Not that it mattered. Anything at point-blank of the subsequent explosion would be singed to a crisp, and he'd probably be torn limb from limb. Her only comfort, no matter how small, was that it would be instantaneous. Didn't prevent her teeth from gnashing in despair.

She reached the edge of the room, opened the door with a gnarled hand and dove through, turning back as a rumbling fireball engulfed the room. Sort of.

The conflagration started as a candle, slowly expanding from the center; a blossoming flower turned to molasses from her perception. Moments like these, where time dragged, were reactions to impending doom so that one could fight or flee. Neither could be done here – her only choice was to watch as the sphere of white and blue expanded.

Slowly. _Too _slowly.

That's when Nicole realized the sluggishness wasn't in her head at all. Somehow, the miniature sun really did broaden with the pace of a sloth. And why was it cerulean? Methanol didn't burn hot enough to – _oh._

_I used stasis, _Curtis thought back just as she discerned it herself. His consciousness was a blurry tapestry from the dearth of breathable atmosphere and prior blood loss. _Just as a test, and it worked. She said… "you're too slow". I didn't know you could do that to air…_

"Isaac!" she screamed, practically throttling him. "Use your stasis on that thing _right now!_" He flinched but made no other response, either dazed or generally confused. The light quickly became blinding. Seething, she dragged him by the neck, gripped his left hand, pointed it at the azure sphere (which quickly turned from blue to yellow) and commanded him again, at which he complied. The ball of tachyons blazed into the miniature star, altering its brightening hue back to deep azure.

Now all she could do was watch as the shimmering, blinding orb pulsated in the "sky". There was nothing she could do but hope he came back to her. None of Curtis' mind reached her from beyond the veil of unconsciousness. The sphere's diameter was now half that of the cylindrical chamber: a supernova. It occluded the Leviathan, and the heat seared Nicole's face. She waited… and her prayers were answered.

Her dead heart leapt as a shadow arced down, blown by stellar wind. _Curtis. _His arms hung loosely, hands barely clinging to the Line Gun as he listlessly drifted. "Get him down here."

She would have strangled her former boyfriend if he was too lethargic to get him. However, Isaac had enough wits about him to yank Curtis down with kinesis (fairly easy with none of his flesh exposed). It made him a puppet jerking forward as the chromatic orb once again shifted hues, and Nicole was on pins and needles.

But he did it. Curtis fell into her arms, and she bailed, dragging him across her shoulders and Isaac by the wrist. They dove through the threshold while the fireball snapped back into normal spacetime. The metal sprang shut right before it reached them.

The last thing she heard, even as the door slammed shut, was a massive and terrible death rattle, both within her head and outside it.

…

Curtis thought he was dead. The sun's flames engulfed him, leaving him a skeleton in a suit of armor as cleansing radiance consumed his flesh. The death throes of a god, and all fell silent as he passed. A good way to die, though it broke his heart to leave her behind.

And then he awoke in her arms. Her face was there as she cradled him in her lap, and her mind whispered sweet thoughts that coaxed him back. _Welcome to the land of the living. _Indeed, they were in the same antechamber where they'd kissed – the most alive he'd been for a long time. Though surprised, he couldn't complain. _I missed you._

_I missed you, too, _he thought back, shaking off the funk of near-death. He'd had dozens of run-ins with the reaper, dodged its scythe, but this was the time he most expected to die. The time when it really mattered. Still, he was glad to remain here, with her.

His ears rang as she helped him up, dizzying him, and he had to brace himself against a bulkhead to keep from keeling over. Isaac was there, too, slumped against one of the walls with a face taut yet twitching. His helmet was off! Curtis wanted to yell at him to put it back on (and because he nearly got them killed), yet Nicole stopped him with a single sentence.

_The Leviathan is dead. _The words echoed in his head, but he couldn't stop staring at the man opposite him. Isaac just looked… empty. What levers did the Marker do to him? _You killed it. _Not quite believing, Curtis turned back to the Food Storage door, which he opened with a flourish of phalanges. It was hot to the touch.

The sickly odor of burning rot was the first of it. Amorphous plumes of thick, pitch smoke congealed in the center, remnants of the Corruption, which was now nothing more than a burbling, tar-like paste. Pipes and dead systems still rattled. Nothing compared to the sight on the back wall, though.

The great Leviathan was reduced to maybe half its previous size. Great craters like those of Luna dotted it where the inferno ate through, doubtlessly igniting pockets within it. The whole thing was charred black, and its anal mouth had distended and drifted around, as did the three giant tentacles, now thoroughly severed. The thing of his nightmares had been defeated with a single spark. He took a moment to absorb it all, basking in the glory and exhaustion. Nicole joined him, and they gawked for a minute.

Mercifully, Kendra appeared to break the silence. Her timing was always impeccable, and he directed her gaze toward the great dead being.

"You… you actually did it!" she exclaimed, still hacking from the toxic emissions. "Oxygen levels are rising. Methanol's slowly dropping. It'll take a while for the scrubbers to get it all out, but we're in the clear." A smile tugged at her lips despite herself.

"Hammond, are you hearing this?" Her face shifted from elation to disappointment when he didn't respond. Oh no. The possibility the man was gone forced him away from the flayed husk and back into the other room. "There's no sign of his RIG anywhere, but we've been having a lot of comm trouble..." She trailed off, but he caught her drift. He might not have been dead, only cut off. Curtis found it unlikely given Hammond's previous condition, yet he couldn't surrender faith. It'd gotten him this far. "Let's hope he shows up later. Except for that, I think we're finally out of problems. There's nothing imploding or breaking, no more giant monsters eating the ship. We almost done."

The news took a moment to digest, and he was perversely disappointed when it did. Hard to believe the dawn approached. Nicole felt even more so. The Ishimura was her home now – a terrible home, but leaving the North Carolina Hubs was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. He understood how difficult it would be to leave behind, especially with the question mark of a future looming ahead.

"Are we finally leaving?"

Kendra hesitated. "Not yet. There's one more thing we have to do." She adjusted her hair, gunked with gore and grime. "There's a general distress shockspace beacon in Mining, just like the one that Vincent woman launched earlier. However, that one's so old the signal's either died or it's been pulled in by the planet. We need to send a fresh one for the military. There's no way they'll find us in the asteroid field otherwise."

"Um, why?" What reason did they have to let the military access any of this? The prospect of the government getting their grubby hands on the bane of mankind chilled his bones. He'd rather have been incinerated than let them get the doomsday rock schematics. "What stake do you have in it?"

"I used to be in the USM myself." It was spoken with the casualness of a weather report. Just some idle fact. Curtis disagreed, though – he was _floored. _This barely five-foot used to dress in a military-grade RIG and kill people?! "I know I don't look like the soldier type, because I wasn't one. No, I was a programmer and a hacker." Oh, that made more sense. Also explained why she was so damn good at it. "Still got basic training, though, which is how I've been able to hold out so long."

The miner came to a conclusion after processing this revelation – he was angry. Residual heat from the conflagration dawdled in his torso, creating a rage similar to a steaming bisque. Or maybe his gnawing hunger got to him.

Now, Curtis didn't have an issue with the military. Well, he _did,_ with their jackbooted reign and tactics against those they deemed "insurrectionists", but the main issue was Kendra _lying_ to them. Hammond had always been honest about his past (though anyone with half a brain would expect a person of his stature and position to be a veteran), but he couldn't abide Kendra keeping quiet about it for so long, especially after they'd already established a modicum of trust.

_Then again, I don't think we actually asked her. _Yeah, he'd never been curious enough to probe about anyone's past. None of his business, though now he wished to be nosier.

"Look, I don't work for them anymore, all right?" Kendra huffed, sensing his suspicion. "My loyalty is to getting us out of here, not EarthGov or the CEC or Unitology or anything else."

"Then why do you want them to find this?" he demanded, poking a finger at and through the holographic screen, warping her face around it. None of what he'd seen should ever have been beheld by human eyes. He'd only rest easy once the Ishimura dropped into Aegis VII and the tectonic load falling finished it off.

"Economics, mostly." He thought he had rocks in his ears, but she repeated herself. Nicole was similarly curious, though more receptive. Isaac couldn't have cared less, listless. "Think about it like this; there are a few dozen Planet Crackers for hundreds of billions of people." OK, he got back into the community college mindset. Academic and shit. "The Ishimura is the oldest, but it's undoubtedly the best: bigger, tougher and more efficient. The others just had to get the job done, but this ship was the proof of concept – the extras were cheapened because of the economy of scale."

He didn't know what that meant, but Nicole's "aura" hummed as she seemed to already light upon the answer. He felt himself blush. He was never smart, but being around such intelligent people made him jealous. His girlfriend was a certified genius!

"What's your point?"

"I'm saying this ship has kept our species afloat for the past 50 fucking years. Without it and its hauls, we'll eat each other alive. I'm not saying the apocalypse will happen, but EarthGov will completely implode. Of course, they want you to think both those things are one and the same." Her gaze narrowed as Curtis finally caught her drift. "If EarthGov goes, who do you think fills the vacuum?"

His stomach turned from fire to ice. Kendra was right. Only Unitology had the strength to muscle the government out. Not that the Church would take over humanity wholesale, but they'd be the most powerful faction left – _maybe _a merger of the CEC and Wey-Yu approached it if the former wasn't already compromised. But they'd have more than enough clout to look for more Markers. Markers that very much wanted to be found.

"The Ishimura was slated to be decommissioned after this, of course, but the hull can still be stripped for parts; millions of tons of scrap metal, centrifuges, stasis and kinesis technology. The next flagship Planet Cracker is supposed to be constructed from those components. That would save billions of credits. Even more important without Aegis VII itself. It'll set back production of everything from space stations to shaving cream. If the Ishimura goes, so does the economy, the government and an even shittier future than the one already in front of you."

He met her steely gaze before glowering at the ground. Nicole completely bought it, and it began to make sense to him. The status quo sucked, but at least humanity was still around. The same couldn't be said for a future where Unitology won its shadow war with EarthGov. Not exactly between a rock and a hard place when the rock actively tried to murder him. Still, he felt dirty for the choice. It also left one very big question open.

"What about the Marker? You planning to leave that here?" That was the deal breaker; it needed to go. Sure, whatever government craft arrived would stumble across Necromorph remains among the slag (they'd all die once the Marker was far enough away), but that was far better than the Marker itself. Whatever insight they gained would be limited. Kendra sighed, lips pursed into a grimace.

"I haven't figured that out yet. We don't have a lot of options. We can try to get onto the shuttle and have us dump it into the sun on our way out. Otherwise, it could get vented into space, fall into the planet and get obliterated when the tectonic load comes down. Really, all our choices involve vaporizing the damn thing. None of it can survive." His sentiments exactly. It may not have been a god, but it had the durability of one.

Well, that's where they stood. One man down and with Dr. Mercer still doubtlessly out to get them, but with the biggest Necromorph on the ship dead and no more glaring existential threats.

They roused Isaac and started back to the tram station, and Curtis smiled when he felt the Red Marker practically weeping in his head. The most beautiful music. _Let's see how you like it._


	23. Ghosts and Machines

**16 Hours, 45 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

On the tram again. Their paths always led back to that giant coffin. Curtis had rooted himself in the same spot near the front so many times that a distinct outline of his ironclad rear was impressed into dank fabric. It was part of the ship now, as was he. He'd never really leave, even if he escaped. That much he knew.

Nicole's presence helped. Kept him from falling into the abyss of insanity that yawned beneath him. Auras of love and acceptance permeated his soul more than words ever could.

Then there was that sensation's opposite, one of fear and depression. This came from Isaac, who lived in the back. He skulked in darkness, sitting straight as an arrow. He saw the engineer's mouth flap up and down, silently speaking to someone in his head. Nicole, most likely. Though he'd previously acknowledged their Stalker companion as Nicole (and even gave their relationship his blessing), that never could have lasted. Not with the plague of madness infesting the ship. He was no longer wholly responsible for his own actions.

Curtis was still pissed at him, though.

His actions nearly got them all killed. He recognized it was stupid, that there had been times he'd nearly done the same. Call it human hypocrisy. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like insincerity and fraud governed all mankind. He always knew lies were common, but now he was hard-pressed to recall a single institution that ever told him the truth. EarthGov, the CEC, other employers and his foster families all claimed he'd be taken care of. None ever did. Of course, he was also a liar. The greatest axiom he'd ever learned came from being mugged by a woman twice his age in a skeevy back alley: "if someone makes you an offer that's too good to be true, it probably is."

Must have been a truly universal mindset; even the Marker utilized deception. It was a greater weapon in its arsenal than zombies. Had anyone in his life ever been honest?

_I like to think I have._

He turned to Nicole, who flashed a lovely smile at him. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder. Another cliché that turned out all too true. "The wisdom of the ancients" proved a better guide than anything else he'd encountered. But yeah, she'd proved truthful. Of course, part of that was being unable to lie to each other – the bridge between their mental worlds would tip the other off – but what few deceptions she had offered were for his own safety. Even then, they became more open. He wished more people had the Bond he'd been gifted with. It would help so many.

Weird things to dwell on amidst their predicament, but he'd cheated death yet again. He found himself being drawn toward life.

Isaac stared at them with a furrowed brow, somehow seeming to understand everything transpiring in their heads. It unsettled him, yet there was no malice behind his glassy eyes. Not much of anything. Curtis found himself being sucked into a staring contest against his will. Difficult to turn away from the battle for the man's soul. Very soon, the Marker would win. Their gazes drifted together a dozen times before Curtis "said" something.

_We'll probably have to split up again, _Curtis beamed to Nicole across their Bond. This was an era of relative asylum, but obscure dangers crouched in every corner. They couldn't afford to dawdle, especially with Isaac slipping by the minute. Kendra and Hammond (if he still lived) would soon follow. _Do you want to go with me or Isaac?_

He was ashamed to say the latter might have evoked envy an hour ago. Not so with their current connection, subsequent make-out session and Isaac's delirium.

_With you. _The answer surprised him, though perhaps it shouldn't have. _It's not like that, _she replied, only sounding the slightest bit defensive. Mostly, though, she was saddened by her former lover's condition. _I think he's well enough to go alone one more time. I mean, he's unstable, but he hasn't been aggressive._ True… but it wouldn't be long. There was the question of what to do with him afterward, but neither wanted to address that yet. _Besides, we saw what happened after you being alone for under a minute. You're more dangerous to yourself than he is._

Curtis sighed, more air being pumped from his throat with every bump and kink in the magnetic tracks. Even now, he felt the Marker attepmting to remold his brain to its whims – it'd be moldy cheese if it got its wish. He only resisted because of Nicole. His Link with her was stronger. It drowned out the Marker's voice, reducing the commands of a god to that of fly buzzing around his head. Without her, he'd kill himself within minutes.

_Thank you, _he told her. He expressed gratitude often, for nothing he said or did would ever compensate her kindness (not that any reciprocation was wanted). Of course, Nicole felt the same way about him.

The journey was gentler than usual, for they soon arrived at the Mining Deck. It had been so long since he set foot there. The whole reason for his presence proved a minor footnote in the scheme of his tribulations. Now he returned and was unsurprised by the homecoming he faced. The usual – Corruption, bad smells, spooky noises. It grated on him, but he no longer found it that frightening. He'd been inundated with these varnishes for so long they barely fazed him. No scarier than a horror movie. Hell, the Clogger alarmed him more by this point!

Necromorphs themselves were another matter. His complacency with the trappings didn't mean he was dumb. The scenery just didn't have the potential to hurt him… most of the time. It was akin to fighting actual monsters in a cheap haunted house. And it took something on the level of the Leviathan or the Graverobber to really throw him off.

_We haven't seen her for a while, _Nicole thought as they stepped into the platform. No, and hopefully they wouldn't again. She doubtlessly still prowled the tunnels for them. A distant roar made the three quicken their strides deeper into the deck. So much for him not being scared…

But his confidence grew as they pressed on. Curtis didn't need a map to navigate these halls. The times he'd done it were enough, and the layout of mining vessels was second nature to him. They soon found themselves before the great door he admired of old. Almost seemed quaint compared with the other wonders he experienced. The only notable things about it were that he'd found his Line Gun and met Gabe in the room ahead.

_God, I hope he and Lexine are all right_. It had been so long since they left. Living or dead by Nathan's undead hands, he didn't know. He hoped they'd found hot meals and warm beds on the Sprawl by now and would never look back. Maybe he'd meet them again one day if he was lucky. Anyway, he opened the door.

Mining Ops was the same, only a lot uglier in all the standard ways. Nothing stood out except for a row of lockers to the left, which had been crushed by a large Corruption tentacle. Most of his awe evaporated with his fear; there was a time that this chamber impressed him more than any he'd ever been in.

Curtis drew his weapon in a half-hearted attempt to dissuade Necromorphs, but the only one there was the woman beside him. She stroked his mind, which coaxed loose his aching muscles and made him holster the gun. _I don't feel anyone too close, but I sense a lot of minds deeper in. Too far to tell how many, though._

She shared the sensations of buzzing intellects with him, which reminded him of flies swarming steamy roadkill on a hot summer day. Though distant, they were little cold sparks. At least, that's how he perceived them. Still incredibly difficult to fathom the hive mind – his brain wasn't equipped to deal with it like Nicole's. She only allowed him to peer in, as she tore herself away from the collective. He was an outsider looking through the lens of an outcast, so his perspective was warped.

Isaac threw another uncanny look at them, which made Curtis flinch.

They reached the main lift before too long, the great engine to travel between the many subdecks. There were other ways, but this was the main one. Might as well use it. The three sat with their backs against the grate while Curtis called Kendra. Hopefully she'd put together a more complete version of her plan by now. She answered almost immediately, and Curtis noticed she wasn't at her usual spot in the shuttle. She now stalked the halls, Divet at the ready.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, painfully aware any slip-up on his part might be fatal. It took a few seconds, but she found a storage closet and slipped inside.

"Looking for a compatible shockpoint drive," she said with a shrug. "Might as well do something important while you're launching the beacon. Unlikely there are any around here, but maybe I'll stumble upon one." Curtis normally would have objected, but it was her choice. More power to her if she thought this would yield results.

"If you say so." She pulled up another holo-screen, this one on her wrist, and hammered at the keys. She licked her parched lips.

"Looks like there's an asteroid moored in one of the mining bays for smelting; most are gone. If you attach the SOS beacon to it, you can launch it out of the debris field for a clean broadcast." A generally hazy plan began to take shape in his head, an image forged by her words. The asteroid part may have been superfluous, but it would render the thing less susceptible to damage. "The beacon is on the Maintenance subdeck." Even in his shambling state, Isaac recognized this was a job for him.

"I'll take that one," he rasped, and Nicole's head shot around. The man sounded like he'd gargled glass. Pangs of grief stung her like wasps; what happened to him? How could she help? She was the best doctor he'd ever met, and not just for her skill. How many others would ask those questions right now?

"The ejection mechanism is above the bay," she continued before a scowl crossed her face at some scrap of data to grace her wrist-screen. "Damn, the control room's locked. It looks like there's an emergency access code on the Processing subdeck. I can't access it from here, though. Closed system." That didn't particularly surprise Curtis. The console to manipulate comets was always locked tight. Didn't want any jackass or disgruntled employee to launch it back into space or mess with the gravity tethers. The biggest shock was that the Ishimura incorporated that safety feature at all.

Kendra was right about it being a technological wonder and economic powerhouse, but Nicole was correct in claiming it was a death trap. Danger was an implicit part of being a spacer (minus the ghouls; those were new), but he expected more from the CEC. Foolish in hindsight. Life was much cheaper than gold or platinum.

"We'll get to it," Curtis replied. Then, for his sanity, he added, "After this, we can take the Marker and leave."

"Couldn't be easy, could it?" Kendra shook her head, almost wistful. "I don't know how much more of this I can take." A click, and she was gone.

"You heard all that, right?" A dozen tendons strained and popped in both legs as he stood from all the abuse he'd suffered. He didn't dare use more Somatic Gel except in dire need, lest he contract some debilitating illness. Isaac nodded, and Nicole didn't need to speak a word to confirm it. "Then let's go. The sooner we leave, the better."

Isaac grunted his assent… at least, Curtis _hoped _it was. _We have to keep an eye on him_.

_I agree. He won't be able to hold out much longer._

Nothing else to do here. They had a game plan, loose and dangerous though it was (and it _always _was); he and Nicole would get the key from Processing, Isaac would snag the beacon from Maintenance and they'd all converge on the Extraction subdeck. Therefore, Curtis pushed the button to retrieve the lift. It groaned up the shaft – no big deal – but something sounded off about the noise. Mixed with grinding gears was a deathly moan and hacking cough. He reached for the Line Gun, yet Nicole detected none of her kith nearby.

Curtis only learned the truth once the elevator rolled into view. The scuffed, stained floor arrived, and the grill opened. His stomach dropped. It was a person. A living, breathing person.

But not for long.

Her legs twisted backward at the knees, and she lay in a puddle of dried blood from lacerations on her torso. He didn't know a thing about blood, but Nicole knew she'd been there for several hours from how congealed it was. A shredded uniform and basic gas mask were all that insulated her from the elements. Another barely conscious moan as her life slipped away, and her mangled hands pitifully clawed the air.

Curtis wanted to scream at Nicole to save her. She had to. But it didn't take a doctor to know nothing could be done. Not with what little they had. So, she died. A final spasm, and a loud flatline emanated from the fresh corpse. He imagined her soul forcing free of her discarded husk, letting out one final shriek on the way to whatever life came next. Took all of five seconds, yet the sound would haunt him the rest of his life. They all would.

He felt less awful this one, though. Unlike the guy in the BPC, there was nothing they – _he _– could have done to prevent this. At least, he hoped not. Part of him wondered all the same.

"Well," Nicole said to break the awful stillness that followed, "let's make sure she doesn't come back." The next minute or so was a blur. All Curtis comprehended was the rending of flesh, the tearing of tendons and the notion he did something of unspeakable evil. Funny how their perspectives had flipped since the last time. Nicole didn't hesitate to carve the body up to keep it away from her kith, while he struggled to detach a single finger. He didn't want to deal in death anymore! Was that too much to ask?!

All the while, Isaac hung back, seeming to stalk them like a predator. Curtis wasn't sure whether to feel anger or dread about the behavior. Regardless, it plucked a memory from the broken vault of his brain. He watched vids about and from centuries passed fairly often, which was why he cultivated all the pop culture. That just interested him. Anyway, he recalled that large carnivores inhabited the African Sector until their inevitable demise from massive urbanization and a withering climate. Among those, hyenas always ate scraps the lions left. That's what Isaac reminded him of, sans the laughter. Maybe he laughed inside.

_We can trust him, _she soothed as his boot came down a final time, turning a head to jelly. _He's not in his right mind, but Isaac is the most stubborn person I've ever met. _More than him? Impossible. _The Marker might break him, but not now. Not so soon. _Curtis couldn't hide his doubt, yet he kept his concerns private.

That led them to get onto the rusty, grinding elevator, surrounded by a body turned to pulp, a smattering of tools and a whole lot of blood. Much more than the woman could have produced on her own. Something was wrong – more than usual, he meant.

_Are there any other Necromorphs around? _he asked, surveying an array of holographic buttons that directed to a couple dozen subdecks. Three held primacy, though, and were the destinations they sought. Processing came first, so Curtis punched that in, and the thing slowly and painfully scooted down the shaft.

_Yes. Quite a few, _she replied while sharing echoes of their gibbering minds with him. _They know we're here and want to kill us. _Obviously, but Curtis glanced around their enclosure again. The place was a cage. One wall was the grate, but the others and the floor were foot-thick titanium and steel. Necromorphs were strong, but even they couldn't get in. It would be horrific if they could, though. Nowhere to run or hide.

That presented an unpleasant question: how was the woman killed if the enclosure had such tough containment? Nicole pricked up at the realization, baring her claws while her mandibles snapped at the slightest noise – and there was a lot. Isaac leapt back into a wall at the instinctive display of intimidation. Honestly, he found it fucking hot that his girlfriend was such a badass, but arousal came second to the threat of death.

Just then, a scrabbling sound started in the walls, mingling with ovations of creaking machinery. Whispers jumped from her mind to his, syllabations which warned of horrible agony. Bog standard stuff, but highly effective against a mere mortal such as himself. Living was all he had. Though he'd survived everything the Red Marker threw at him, there was no doubt that resulted from a perfect storm of tenacity, luck and potentially "divine" intervention. Those would run out sooner rather than later.

Nicole wasn't afraid to die – that fate already befell her. Her priority was him. Any harm that came to him also affected her, and she sure as Hell _won't let my "father" lay a rotten finger on you! _His mind reeled as their thoughts juxtaposed more fluidly than ever. Operating in lockstep was wonderful, though, especially when her spirit lashed at the darkness. _Attack us and you'll find no quarter!_

"What she said," he muttered, pulling the Line Gun from his back. He was ready to blast arms or legs off once the first of these freaks burst through the bulkheads. Twitchy as he was, Isaac also whipped out his Plasma Cutter, at which Curtis bristled. If one of his rounds so much as glanced Nicole, zombies would be the least of the engineer's problems.

The first wave of Necromorphs appeared as the elevator passed the third or so floor. Wasn't from anywhere he expected, however.

A wet plop made him whirl around and blow the arms off a Puker that had just splatted face-first like a frat boy who'd drank too much. The copious quantities of vomit that spewed from it only strengthened that simile, though Curtis had never seen anyone upchuck through their severed limbs at even the most raucous raves. It steamed on the ground, and Curtis' head shot up just in time to dodge the next plummeting pile of meat.

They fell from the sky, dropping through open vents. Dozens were lined up, waiting for their turn. Such aerial ambushes had happened before, like when he first encountered Leapers on the Engineering deck, but never en masse! The next couple were Stalkers, which was good (aside from making Nicole freak out); they needed space to operate well, so it wasn't too hard to blast one's arms off while it charged. Isaac nailed the other as it snuck up behind him; might have taken his head off if its didn't roll away first. He voiced his appreciation before continuing with the legs.

"Ambush!" Isaac preached to the choir. Indeed, it really did sound like part of a fire and brimstone Unitologist revival, which made sense. They were damned. More demons came to claim them. Curtis handed it to the Red Marker as he stumbled over the bodies that piled around him. This was its best plan yet.

Another shockwave made the deck wobble, and Curtis then found himself face-to-face with another creature from his nightmares. A Pregnant – only the second he'd ever seen. He immediately recognized it even in dim light; no other Necromorph had such stubby legs and a distended, hideous belly. Weren't many pregnant women aboard, thank God. It growled, rumbling forward, and he deftly ducked beneath its clumsy blade, giving it a firm kick to the stomach, which was jelly beneath his boot. He gritted him teeth at the action. One of Curtis' many foster fathers vented on his girlfriend in such a way… while she was pregnant. It made him feel filthy.

Whatever undead fetus lived within was aborted by his foot going through the sheer lining, and he leapt back as a sudden thought hit him. What if it was a Crawler?! He would've gotten himself and his friends killed! The fog of war clouded his head. Needed to be more careful, even as a force beyond reason used that mist to obfuscate its true intentions.

And the lumbering monster right in front of him, it seemed! It hit him with the broadside of its (or her – he didn't care about misgendering the undead like Nicole did, but it must have been a woman if pregnant) axe, which knocked the wind out of him. Liquid pain arced through his limbs, but the RIG's padding prevented serious damage. Then he fell on his back, landing amid a skirmish between Nicole and an Exploder. Well, it was more Nicole pinning it to the floor so it couldn't blow them all up.

_Glad you're here! _she exclaimed.

_So am I. _He peeled himself out of the slush and unloaded two rounds into the not-so-Pregnant's legs. That was enough to finish it off. At the same time, his girlfriend cleaved clean through the Exploder's arm and brushed the pustule though the hole the Puker's potent acid carved in the floor. A few seconds later, a distant _boom _rang out from the bottom of the shaft. Both hauled themselves up and stood back-to-back, while Isaac finally ran out of ammunition, his gun impotently clicking in his hands. Probably for the best.

It continued for what seemed like forever. Ghouls arrived in waves; their one advantage was that only two or three could drop in at a time. His skin stuck to the inside of his RIG, and he practically drowned in his own sweat. The floors were molasses trickling by: one, two, three. Numbers meant everything in this gauntlet. The only measure of time was the sound of Necromorphs breaking bones.

By the end, he was so addled that he nearly pressed the button to eject a power cell as a grenade. Fuck the fact it'd blow them all up – splash damage was a small price to pay for the obliteration of their foes! One Nicole stayed his hand, but another whispered, yelled and goaded for him to flip that switch. What was it with this damn elevator and things exploding?!

_Splat! _He turned and put a round in the torso of a Leaper. However, it was already gone. Blowing off the top part of its spine had no effect other than making its body do a jig across the paste of its relatives. His head shot up; no reinforcements came. The next wave hung their heads and upper bodies through their foxholes, roaring but not coming through. Why not?!

_It's too far, _Nicole replied while they shook their metaphorical fists._ If they jump now, they'll destroy enough of themselves to die instantly. They know it's not worthwhile. _Hard to believe the Necromorphs had a sense of self-preservation, but it made sense if they had no chance at all of success. They won… for the moment.

The Red Marker knew it, too. His brain fractured from its rage before Nicole absorbed the brunt of the damage. The pain was sucked from his head by a woman with far more composure than him. It didn't affect her too much because of her biology. Necromorphs were _made _to be dominated by it, so they bent but didn't break. She took it with a grunt and a few twitches before smothering it out. Even the howling above decreased as they sank into the Ishimura's guts. That left them with very little to speak of.

It was all the same. Seemed like it always had been. Death and silence, save the psychic screams of something that pounded at his mind with a sledgehammer, not quite able to break it. The shockwaves still hurt like a bitch, though. He squirmed in the gore of his fallen foes, waiting for what terror would come next. He was so lost in all this that the soft ping of the elevator arriving at Processing made him reel.

_Please, calm down, _Nicole told him. He certainly tried.

Curtis threw a glance over his shoulder at Isaac, who idly bade them farewell from his dark corner. "I'll be all right," he croaked. Curtis pressed a few precious power cells into the engineer's hands, very much doubting that claim. This was mining. Surely he could find some in a crate or storage room. "Thank you."

They stepped onto the deck proper, a sense of vertigo kicking in at the slightly higher pull these grav-panels emitted compared with others on the ship. Not enough to affect him, but it was noticeable. Probably just a calibration error. _After this, we can't let Isaac be by himself again, _she said. _He's slipping. It'll be bad soon._

**17 Hours Post-Outbreak**

Nicole couldn't stop thinking of Isaac. After the battle on the lift, when they departed, her eyes stayed stuck to him until they turned a bend. Then he was gone, perhaps forever.

She feared it was perverse, coupled with her new relationship – certainly, it reeked of obsession – yet her daydreams inexorably drifted to him. He was her best friend for years, her anchor. They were engaged, and she was going to marry him once she returned home. Tying the knot was unusual in their day and age, so it proved how committed they were to each other. She spent months fantasizing about it.

Then she died and hooked up with another man within the span of hours. Sure, she'd known Curtis longer than that, but just barely. A week or so? It was a trivial span; the time she kept leftovers in the refrigerator for! Curtis was a great guy, she conceded, but this was too much too soon. Desperation got the better of her. Dead for not even half a day, and still clinging to things she wanted in life.

Curtis made a noise in his head akin to clearing his throat, which made her roll her eyes. They shared brainspace; he didn't have to knock.

_It's not too late to end this, _he thought, which made her cringe. Romping down desolate hallways packed with undead wasn't conducive to such musings. Plus, he couldn't hide his heartbreak. He'd been knocked down so many times in his life by people of all stripes, backstabbed and betrayed. That was how the world worked (she'd been burned her fair share by creeps and professionals alike), but he'd had it more than most. Part of growing up poor, she supposed. Not that she owed him anything, but she still felt bad for him. _I love you, but I understand this is overwhelming._

_I know you love me, _she replied. Despite her relationship with Isaac, she could never be called a romantic. She loved him, and that was it. The dinners and sexy evenings and flirting were nice, but hardly the point. Curtis absolutely wanted those things, which made it all the more tragic. For someone like that to throw those desires away for her wellbeing… it proved they worked. _The problems are mine. _Great, this would turn into an "it's not you, it's me" thing, and those blew. She struggled to find words that coalesced her feelings into manifest ideas. _I really want this to work. I want to be with you, but it's all gone so quickly. And that's leaving out how we can destroy the Red God without me dying. _One problem at a time, though.

Curtis rubbed his armored neck with a mechanical gauntlet. She was flesh. He was steel. How could they ever pull this off? _Yeah, it's been fast, but I don't think that's necessarily bad. I mean, it's been a good way to work off stress. _No arguing with that. She didn't require the dalliance, yet she absolutely needed the intimacy. _I know that doesn't translate to anything long term. Still, I think we're compatible. We solve problems together, make each other happy and have deep conversations like this one. To me, those sound like they'd be a lot more important _outside _of all this than in it._

Well… _yeah_. All that was true. She got along better with him than any of her coworkers, with whom cooperation was of the utmost import. She knew him on the deepest level because of their Bond, and that mattered a lot. It couldn't substitute for real time, though. They shared memories and thoughts as easily as breathing by now, yet nothing could compare with forging them together. _I hope we do, as lovers or not._

Their conversation came to an abrupt end as something skittered ahead. The noise came from the hallway they were about to go through – long, dark and filled with asteroid dust, which sprinkled through the metal weave beneath their feet onto other subdecks, creating an eternal rain of sand below. Very little Corruption, too; maybe it was too dry to support its ecology, or maybe there wasn't enough biomass there to form sustainable tracts at all. The only way she could differentiate them was by the flickering holo-signs that extolled various values: safety with tools, traveling with a buddy and being punctual.

They checked all those boxes (the CEC's guidelines came in handy for once), so she felt pretty smug when trying to determine what made the sound. She picked up nearby thoughts, so the clang wasn't just something that fell over. Difficult to determine Necromorph phenotype with thoughts alone, unless they were particularly powerful and distinct, such as with the Leviathan and Graverobber, or more primitive. Fortunately, their quarry fell into the latter camp. None of them possessed true sapience, which meant they must've been tiny. Not much room for interpretation.

A pack of Swarmers and two Dividers rounded a bend from up ahead, moving as fast as ill-defined blobs and stitched-together flesh marionettes could, respectively. Nothing particularly threatening, though the hollow bellows the Dividers made always put Curtis on edge. _Are you thinking what I am?_

_You just Linked it over, so yes._

Curtis lined up his shot with the first Divider, balancing his Line Gun on its side and letting loose a bolt of plasma that whizzed to her left. Unlike with Isaac, she had no doubt it would miss her. It bisected the thing, each half collapsing into separate piles of collagen as their constituents withered and died. As expected, none of the others noticed or cared, trampling their dead siblings while rudimentary intellects stewed vague notions of death that they didn't understand.

Nicole was happy to give them firsthand experience. It was her turn to get in on the action.

She pirouetted forward, taking out Swarmers with foot-long claws through their flaccid forms. The movements invigorated her, kindling something in her soul long forgotten. Her parents had her drilled in the liberal arts, including ballet and gymnastics – those were things young girls did in more civilized ages, or so her family reasoned. She hated it at the time, but she wouldn't have been nearly as effective in her razing if not for the moves, which always stayed with her. Now she pulled it off better than any human in history, twisting her form, lithe yet literally all muscle, in ways that would tear a normal person in two.

_Thanks, Mom and Dad, _she sarcastically thought as she put a talon through the last of the buggers. _I finally got a use from the thousands of credits you spent on this stuff. _God, what would they say if they saw her now? Actually, it might not be worse than if she still wore her old body. Hadn't seen them in years, having mutually split; they had nothing in common, as her childhood amply proved.

With that, she turned to the final Divider, which shambled forward with abandon. Smarter Necromorphs wouldn't have fled after that display, but they'd be pretty damn scared. _Is this the best you can do? _she asked. _Maybe it is. There were thousands of people aboard, and we've already killed hundreds of your minions. _Left unsaid was that they were also her kith. No longer family, but still sentient (mostly) beings they ended for playing the parts forced on them. It hurt less now, yet the pain would never fully fade. _You're running out of bodies to throw at us._

She sidestepped as another vertical column of superheated matter whizzed past, this one going a little high. It decimated the head, arms and some of the ceiling, so she dispatched the legs when they tried to crawl away. And that was it… until she received an answer.

The Red God was breaking, for the deluge she brought down was more screaming than anything coherent or threatening. It sounded like radio static mixed with demonic chanting in a busted blender. No specific words. Just anger and frustration and pain. It was fun to poke the bear, but she decided not to do it again as she stumbled back. Made sure to not let the aftershocks reach her friend.

_That wasn't too bad, _Curtis said as they stepped across mounds of twitching meat. _Our priorities are pretty fucked in that regard. _He paused for a second. _It's nice that you can find the time to appreciate your parents._

She would have thought he was kidding if not for their Bond. Then again, he didn't really have parents, so that must have seemed much more significant to him. She tried to not sound too entitled in her response. _I guess they raised me right. I have nothing to complain about. We just… wanted different things._

They bantered back and forth about family for a minute as they approached their destination. Speaking of which, they had little more trouble with them. A lone Slasher popped up, which Curtis dispatched without so much as a glance. Either her creator was even more ineffectual than she expected… or something big was gearing up. Probably the latter. She didn't know what or how, but a dim presence grew on the threshold of her consciousness. It was then a distant murmur on the breeze, but whatever force it represented was already coming for them.

_What about Isaac's family? _he asked. She figured he'd wonder. Wasn't the weirdest thing for guys to compare. He'd always clammed up when it came to them, but she'd gleaned most of the story during all their years together.

_Well, I know he doesn't have any extended relatives, and no siblings, either. Just the parents… well, _one _of them. _Funny how none of them did. The traditional nuclear family no longer held the primacy it once did, but it seemed strange that all three of them were so isolated in similar ways. Curtis never had a family, most of Isaac's was dead, and she never got along with hers. They all drew together like outcasts did. Her boyfriend shifted in his greaves. _That being his mother. Never met her, though she apparently lives somewhere on the Eastern Seaboard of the United States Sector, same as you. Isaac hasn't spoken to her in a long time._

_Why not?_

_Because she's a Unitologist. _It all made sense to Curtis; neurons fired, lighting up neural pathways and rewarding him with a dose of serotonin for solving the mystery. Plenty of people didn't like Unitologists because of their proselytizing or whatever, but the engineer's antipathy seemed more personal. _She converted because of what happened to his father and became really involved – almost an addiction. _In the religion, position was determined by how much money or power one delivered to the Church instead of piety or any sort of belief. It sounded incredibly shallow to her, yet it appealed to some. Everything else in the galaxy could be purchased for the right price: why not salvation? So much easier than actually trying.

_She used family savings to buy a "Vested" title. The money included Isaac's college funds. _Curtis cringed, wondering how somebody could do that to her own child. _He had to go to some crappy technical institute, and that's why he hates Unitology._

_I guess I can't blame him, _Curtis thought back. The sand was thicker here, feeling alien under her bare feet. How long had it been since her soles touched genuine earth? It didn't happen often. _But what happened to his dad? _Oh, she forgot about that part.

_Nobody knows, _she said, racking her memories for what little she knew of the man. Isaac almost never spoke of him. Painful, she knew, and not in the same way as with his mom. A lot, she only got from dredging up old news stories on the Transnet, which only included cursory information. Working for the government meant getting black ink in your obituary.

_What does EarthGov have to do with it? I thought you meant he just walked out one day! _How to even begin with this tangle of conspiracy?

_His father, Poul, was also an engineer. One of the best of the 2400s; won dozens of awards for his work in ship design, stasis and kinesics tech, and so on. I'm sure the Ishimura has been retrofitted with plenty of his designs. _Curtis was impressed already. _He didn't come home often; a lot of his work was on the colonies or in deep space. Then, when Isaac was a teenager, Poul never came back. Just… disappeared on the edge of the known galaxy along with a hundred others. That was in 2480, I think. Part of some scientific expedition for EarthGov; they contracted him to go as an independent advisor._

_What was the team doing? _By this point, he was on the edge of his seat. This sounded like something out of an adventure vid, and he needed a break from the horror story unfolding around them.

_Again, nobody's sure. You know how it is with the government. They stonewall and the matter gets tied up in court for decades or centuries until everyone who cared is dead. _He actually didn't know that. _But I know Isaac is still trying to find him. I've caught him trying to get around the red tape a dozen times. It's just never been my place to intrude._

He remained quiet as their destination approached… as did their pursuer. She guessed it was about 10 subdecks up, tracking them like a bloodhound. Quite close, but she couldn't get a good read on it because of everything between them; barriers dampened their psychic abilities, and there were many thick ones in Mining. The only thing she knew was its size – big. Perhaps a Brute? She alerted Curtis.

_Thanks for letting me know. _He straightened up, a sign at the end of their current tunnel restoring some of his mental energy. He was already a lot healthier than an hour ago from scarfing down fruit on Hydroponics, so now he was in even better shape. _We're finally here! It's about time. _They rounded one last corner, and she caught fractured glimpses of their destination through the mesh on the walls. Heard it, too. She knew this was Processing and not much else. Could've dug more into Curtis' mind, but she would just let him explain it. Upon reaching the door, itself obscured by nearly a foot of dust, he spun around and retracted his helmet.

"Madame, welcome to Hotel D'Ishimura, the finest luxury resort this side of Aegis VII!"

The sound of crickets practically looped in her head. The goofy Pan-European accent and obsequious manner hit a wall. The grin on his face dropped, and he muttered an apology about "being weird".

Then she started to laugh. Sounded more like pebbles in a lawnmower than anything else, but Curtis loved it, and it peeled him right back up. Like, she had to laugh! It was too strange not to! What even was that?! "You're… funny," she said, her body instinctively gasping for air that she no longer needed. "I had no idea you had a sense of humor!" Not a particularly developed one, but it was still uniquely his.

"There hasn't been a good time to show it," he sheepishly replied. "This still isn't a good time." Images of the dead woman flooded his head before he pushed them away. He wanted to make her happy. "But I'm glad you like it." Nicole cleared her throat – difficult to attempt accents in the psychic plane – and joined the fun herself.

"Of course, sir. I have heard exquisite things about your spa and childcare services." The persona she donned of a snooty zombie made both of them crack up. She imagined the two of them in fancy clothes, wining and dining some distant resort world, sleeping under the stars. Quite a step up from the rose garden Curtis dreamed about them frolicking in. Either would have been amazing, though. As long as she was with him…

"They are incredible, yes. Allow me to show you, posthaste!" Snickering under his breath, he opened the door, which chugged away to reveal a sight unlike any other.

It was a big room. No surprise there, for Mining carved out a bigger chunk of the ship than any other deck by design. Hardly surprising that it was a large place. No, what shocked her was the technology at play. The extraction tech on humanity's greatest mining vessel escaped her – she merely focused on the medical side of things. Gazing into the chamber, though, she knew the CEC spent exponentially more money here than on healthcare.

A massive beam of gravitonic energy flowed across the room, corralled with hoops mounted on the walls (or ceilings or floor, for there was no gravity). Pieces of asteroids were sucked here to be sifted and smelted into ingots, which Curtis said were directed by machines attached to the hoops. _They coax ore out of the rock in a way people can't, _he declared. It was nice to hear him speak so strongly. He loved his job and helping her understand it, too.

They stood (technically, she floated) on a catwalk above an empty area. Not much of anything except that kinesis beam and a few small chunks of rock that must have been knocked out. No Corruption or dead bodies or anything. This was one of the few places they'd visited where it felt like nothing changed. She briefly considered the prospect of finding more survivors, but she quickly quashed the notion for Curtis' sake. Even with that woman they found earlier, the odds of coming across another were low. Best not to give him hope. The only other point of interest was another door on the opposite side.

_That's where we're going. This is the Processing center that links to the Mining Bay we're going to. I don't know much about administrative matters, but I'm pretty sure there'll be an access code in there somewhere. _That made sense. Her own station was built with redundancies. They'd be in trouble if it wasn't there, though. Speaking of trouble, their pursuer was closer. Not really, but with a higher ceiling, fewer floors separated them.

They crossed the deck hand in hand but ran into a problem with the door. Namely, it didn't open. They'd dealt with so much ill fortune that it didn't come as a twist anymore. Curtis browsed the little readout on the door hologram, which now flashed red.

_OK, it's not that bad. _He shivered and pointed at the roof. _At least, it wouldn't be without something threatening to burst in and kill us. _Sure enough, they heard a faint booming noise far above them, making her panic. They needed to run from anything that could rip through bulkheads! _W-we have to clear out those little meteors! They need to go into the gravity beam! _he internally stammered, gesturing at the rocks floating around. They were small, about the size of his head, but the place was luckily bright enough for them to be picked out.

Curtis _might _have been able to slice through with his Line Gun, but it would have been a tremendous waste of ammo when they needed it most. Therefore, they just decided to go with it and hope they had enough time to bail! They fanned out to satisfy the AI's arbitrary wishes.

She leapt into the air but didn't come down, grabbing a chunk on the way and tossing it into the glowing ray of energy. It bounced off the rim of one of the baskets before quickly falling into the steep gravity well. _Much _more powerful than she expected. In an instant, the material went from dense stone to a collection of shiny pebbles. Not quite strong enough to atomize, but anything going in wouldn't come out in one piece. Had to make sure to not get sucked in, herself. _It'd be nice if I could change my direction, _she internally grumbled. That was one of the few things Curtis had over on her.

_Y-you know, this reminds me of the time we played Z-Ball, _he said as she jumped to the next rock, this one approximately the shape of a potato but 10 times larger._ Just you and me and Gabe and Irons. Those were the days. _Indeed, the good old days of less than a week ago. It would have been laughable if not absolutely true. She shook her head before slamming her leg into the boulder, sending it spiraling to its demise. _That and when we cleared those radioactive minerals from Ore Storage. _She remembered that, too. Seemed they ended up moving a lot of things in zero-gravity.

Call it a metaphor for their current lives; pointlessly pushing shit back and forth in an effort to somehow fix it. Not the most exciting thing in the world, but hey, it was better than tumbling through fire or killing things. Speaking of the latter, it approached. Five floors away, then four. The smashing grew louder, shaking the very air as systems "above" overloaded or broke, setting the lights aflicker. Curtis cursed, but he had it easier, able to pick up the rocks with kinesis while she relied on her bare hands. She admitted that in the battle of machine versus flesh, the former had a few advantages.

It made her speed up, at the very least. Two floors. One. It – _she _– bellowed, and that's when Curtis realized, as well. _Holy shit! We have to go! _They sank the final ball, causing a small chime to ding.

And then there were none.

A single bone-tipped spear tore through the metal to their left like it was butter. Solid steel, not the paltry mesh, was gone in a blink. The metal bent, then broke, and an eldritch shape pulled through the portal. The Graverobber arrived.

It changed since they'd last met. Its right scythe was now long gone, blasted off by Curtis during their battle on the tram. A lot of its body was covered in burns and scars, remnants of accidents since passed. The halls and tunnels of the Ishimura didn't discriminate between living and dead. Anything that size would face serious trouble. Most notably, most of the flesh of the corpses on its back was gone, decayed into skeletons. Their deformed bones that composed its back waved in the wind, yet the skulls still stared in sync with the main maw, a collection of many heads wrenched open, their mouths fused together.

Nicole and the beast glared at each other for a small eternity while Curtis tried to figure out the best plan. Yeah, he came up with some clever ones on occasion. This time, though, the best solution was encapsulated by a one-word command.

_Fly._

The single syllable jolted both her boyfriend and "sister" into action, the former scooping her up and the latter digging into the bulkhead with dagger-length claws, dragging herself inextricably toward them while roaring.

_I will have your head! _she screamed, every mouth on her body roaring in unison. _Do you know what you have become to us?! _Images of a horrible monster flooded her soul. It stalked the halls, chopping up innocents like a modern Jack the Ripper. An aura of doom egressed from it, and its eyes glowed like coals. That was how they saw her. She already knew that, but the vivid detail did no favors. _We are life while you are death itself, a pitiful creature sulking in the dark! You will never see the glories of Convergence!_

Curtis grasped his head with one hand as they drifted, his thrusters straining from overuse. It might not be enough. Acceleration was difficult with nothing to push off, and her added mass slowed it more. Nicole didn't need to turn around to know her sister gained ground. _And him? _she asked, feeling the miner's pulse pound as he zoomed toward their destination.

_The human's actions are heinous but understandable, _the Graverobber answered_. It knows nothing of the wonders we offer, the power we wield. Fear of change is in their nature. _That was true. Her life before this had nearly always been in flux, which wasn't pleasant. Hopping from job to job, waking up knowing there were some people she couldn't save… She saw the world differently now. Even this deep in the shit, things didn't pack the same punch they once would have; their threshing maw mere feet from them elicited more disappointment than terror. Most of her fear was for him. _If you really loved it, you would put your claws through its chest!_

They weren't going to make it in time. The cold stench of death wafted from many mouths. Many eyes ogled them, always in more detail. Many arms reached for them, demanding they embrace the "peace" the Marker offered. Both she and Curtis knew it, though neither wanted to admit it. They needed a plan – a good one! They might not be able to kill her, but they needed to slow her down! Stasis alone might not do the trick, though. If only they had some insurance.

A random sputter from his thrusters shifted them slightly toward the gravity beam and also rocked the Line Gun on his back. It sparked both their imaginations, hers toward the former and his toward the latter. Fortunately, it was easy to marry the concepts. _I fucking hope this works! _he thought while she handed him the tool, still clinging to his back. The "sky" danced above and below and to their sides.

She was feet away; her tongues lashed out like whips, and one nearly caught Curtis in the arm, making him yelp in fright. The fear of death around him was chum in the water for this shark. That strengthened Nicole's resolve. _Nothing _would take him away from her, let alone this foul beast. Family by blood or spirit or not, her Bond with Curtis was tougher.

Tachyons blasted from his open hand, weaving her body into a bubble of slowed time. They seemed to triple in speed, though that was merely an illusion from her becoming so much slower. A second later, they landed on the catwalk with the opposite door perhaps 50 feet to their left. Her "sister" hung in the air, all eyes still locked on her with abject hatred. Nicole hoped hers had the intensity to match, but she knew they didn't.

Curtis hoisted up his Line Gun in what little time remained. His hands trembled as he lined up the shot. She knew he _really _wanted to snap a quippy one-liner like "eat this" for affirmation, but his throat was frozen solid. Probably best that he didn't, because it would have fallen flat. _I heard that._

He fired the overheated power cell itself out of the barrel. In a few moments, it would go up in a small conflagration of plasma, hopefully inside her sister's stomach. She still grieved that the idea of killing (the fact they didn't possess heartbeats was a mere technicality, for they were sapient beings) began to appeal to her.

The Graverobber learned from last time, however, or maybe the Marker had. Regardless, she became wise to Curtis' "shoot explosives down the mouth" trick. Though strangled by time itself, she managed to shut her primary jaws just in time. The mine bounced off the array of jagged, needly teeth, making him silently curse. The improvised explosive could still do some damage, but not enough to finish her off. Something else in the room might, though.

The blue hue began to fade as Curtis reached out with kinesis and maneuvered the bomb to the Graverobber's left flank. This would hurt even less. The shove it gave would be the genuine prize. Somehow, she knew their cobbled-together plan would work. They always did.

Their hands intertwined like their minds while the temporal field faded and the bomb went off – flashes of blue and white. Though powerful, the IED wasn't strong enough to puncture the Graverobber's necrotic, bone-studded hide. It didn't need to, though. Not with the gravity beam so close by. The shockwave propelled her to their right, hitting them an instant later, knocking them back. The discombobulation was worthwhile, though.

The beast slammed into one of the massive hoops – not quite inside the beam, but still captured in its gravity well. She screamed as her back-right foot was sucked inside; calcified ossifications splintered off, followed by cartilage. It fascinated her to see the Necromorph form being stripped away layer by layer. Despite _being _one, she had little knowledge of her own inner biology, and the ones she and Curtis killed usually ended up being little more than a mess on the floor when they were through.

Very homogenous. Alternating layers of muscles and bone were exposed, but not much else besides some bits of sinew and gristle. There might have been more variety in the torso, but she doubted it. They didn't need anything else. Not a heart nor a brain nor a stomach. Their intended purpose was to kill: nothing more. Maybe Convergence would bring some greater purpose, but Nicole couldn't see it from her ant-like perspective.

This normally would have been the part of the vid where Curtis reassured her of her own self-worth and the two kissed. May not have been an expert, but she was culturally savvy enough to reference where and when these story beats usually happened. Not this time, though. The miner was far too enthralled by watching her sister being shredded one cell at a time.

_Fall, _Curtis thought, his fists clenched in heavy anticipation. She restrained herself from doing the same. As Curtis cared for the living, she cared for the dead. Not so much anymore – she would destroy them without hesitation if necessary – yet she was one of them. With every one of them lost, a piece of herself disappeared, as well. Yet he continued to cheer, and perhaps the universe took umbrage that.

For once, their scheme failed.

The Graverobber, howling with both mouth and mind, wrapped its sabre around the rim of the hoop it clung to, tearing free of the gravity well. Curtis' elation suddenly turned to horror, yet Nicole almost felt gratification. Even in the best of circumstances, no Necromorph should be taken lightly.

Panicking, Curtis fumbled with his Line Gun while she pushed it down. _We should run. She won't fall for that again, and we're wasting time._

Curtis looked from her to his weapon to the Graverobber, getting ready for another flying leap toward them. Rage clutched at his heart, but he had enough self-control to ignore it and flee. She was right behind him, and her "sister" rapidly brought up the rear.

The two of them were normally faster, but running in zero-gravity wasn't the simple exercise it appeared at first glance. With each step, Curtis' grav-boots needed to turn on and off while her toes needed to gouge the floor to gain traction. The Graverobber would have been on top of them if half a leg hadn't been devoured by the Ishimura.

They jostled forward. The door called a siren song while her "sister" screamed a funereal dirge in shades of scarlet. How differently they perceived reality…

Curtis slammed his hand against the metal so hard it would have broken if not for his gauntlet. Her own arm went numb as a result, but it got the job done. The door slid open not a moment too late. Another two seconds, and they would have found themselves skewered on the end of a massive blade. As a matter of fact, it was the Graverobber who found herself stuck in something.

They fell through the open doorframe onto their stomachs, and the lance shot over their heads. And then the threshold, being as shoddy as it was, slammed down.

…

Curtis scrambled up, dodging the flailing appendage and retreating to a safe distance before observing what happened.

The gate smashed shut on the Graverobber's scythe-arm, and he caught his breath as the limb thrashed, taking out electronics left and right. He recalled the first Necromorph he'd ever encountered: a Slasher he fought on the way to informing Captain Mathius of the power outage. After a knock down, drag out brawl, he won by dropping a door on it. Bisected the thing down the middle. History repeated itself. He'd never complain about the CEC's safety record again.

Dead, brittle bone crunched as pneumatic pressure bore down. Both ends strained under the pressure; the dented door smoked and shuddered, but there was never any doubt about the outcome. Some things were just inevitable.

Black blood and bone shards dropped from the wound, which widened and widened. He held Nicole's hand as she recoiled from the pain (or pain analogue) it went through. Body and soul were synonymous for Necromorphs. Every cell vibrated in tandem, soaking up "life" giving energy from the Marker. Every limb severed made them weaker and more desperate – and he now felt the smallest twinge of that agony through her. It flickered, a candle about to fade.

A terrible cracking snap shot through the room, that of a house being eaten by fire. The door wrenched completely shut, leaving a 10-foot piece of blade that wobbled around before going silent. The Graverobber did not.

Its shriek threatened to knock him over, and it smashed the wall a few times before shrinking back into the hole it crawled out of. Curtis was disappointed the thing didn't die outright, but the scythes weren't all that meaty. Plenty of flesh left to carve from the frame. _Let's get started with that, _he thought while patting his trusty Line Gun.

_Let it go. _Nicole stepped in front of him, for a simple hand on his back wouldn't have the same stopping power. _We have other things to worry about. _He locked eyes with her and sighed. They burned with conviction, and more importantly, she was right. He wanted to hunt this monster down, but they were needed elsewhere. No way this was the end, though. They'd find it or it would find them, and that's when everyone would find out which was predator and which was prey.

Sighing, he turned to the room at large, now half wrecked because of all the pounding. Old magazines and general items such as plastic cups and snack wrappers were spread across the floor. This was all evidence that people used to live and work there; people who did neither of those things anymore. Even so, the place was a paradise compared with slog after slog through darkened halls choked with living walls and Marker-spawn. He wondered if that woman was employed here. Her gear was generic enough to not have been involved in anything especially heavy, so an office job like this seemed about right.

_What if I knew her? _he wondered as he began to poke around. _I could have run into her before and not known it. _Now that the shock had worn off, he knew there was nothing they could have done. That didn't lessen the difficulty of swallowing it.

_Where would this code be? _Nicole asked, which brought his mind back to something actually important.

_One of these consoles. Hang on, let me see if I can get it… _He was no computer whiz, but everyone could sort information simply by data being omnipresent. This wasn't particularly sensitive, secret information, either, so all he needed to do was open a couple folders and click on the one titled **Mining Bay Access Codes. **Kendra could have done it with her eyes closed if the mining networks were connected to the rest of the Ishimura.

_Got it, Nicole. _She leafed through an issue of _Interstellar Sports_, quickly tossing it aside. Honestly, it amazed him that some publications thought it prudent to still print things on actual paper. Had to cut into the bottom line, and the market was limited when digital versions could be accessed with the press of a button. Probably to look classy; anybody who purchased physical books could put them on shelves to show off. He rang up Kendra, who quickly answered.

"Hello," she said, thankfully back at the shuttle. That didn't do much for her health, unfortunately. Difficult to be certain with the dull blue and gray hues that RIG-mounted holo-screens projected, but she looked very pale. She was disheveled and distraught for certain.

"Hey, Kendra? I think I've got the right thing," he said, spinning her the cipher to her and mulling whether he should ask what the matter was. Was that an appropriate thing to do? He had his own griefs, but Nicole shared them. Should he be a shoulder for Kendra to lean on, or was doing his job and getting them the Hell out of there enough?

_I think you should offer support, _Nicole suggested. _None of us are leaving without helping each other. _That was true, and it made him regret doubting Kendra. They were in this together, and it wasn't helpful for him to doubt his comrades.

Her face perked up when she examined the data he sent, and she wiped away an idle tear. "That's the key, Curtis. This code will get you into the control room." She bucked up and threw a nervous glance over her shoulder. "I'm back at the shuttle now, of course. Looking for a shockpoint drive didn't pan out."

"Are you doing all right? You seem pretty down," he said. Nicole sensed a swathe of regret as soon as the words left his mouth. _God, why did I ask that?! Of course she's not doing well! _Contrition leapt the gap between them. Curtis was a great guy, but he sometimes lacked tact. It's not like that was a huge faux pas, but it could have been phrased better.

"No, I'm… I'm really not," she coughed, burying her head in her hands. They'd never seen her so broken before, and it left Nicole stunned. Kendra always struck her as the most emotionally strong of the group, despite an attitude Curtis thought of as "bitchy". Now, though, he seriously reassessed that adjective. "T-the madness… it's starting to affect me, too. I just s-saw my brother on one of the monitors, and that's obviously not possible."

Nicole sighed, tracing a claw along the contours of her body. He knew this was going to happen eventually, yet it still came as a surprise. Kendra always seemed unassailable by the distempers which blighted everyone the Marker touched. How long had she concealed her suffering?

"But there he was, just smiling and waving at me," she began. "He – he said he was happy to see me. That it had been so long. He told me he knew a way for me to get out of here, and he wanted to show me. Then… then…" The programmer burst into tears, which punched Curtis in the gut. He could save people from dying (if he was lucky), but nothing could halt the inevitable rot once it took hold. Only _he _got lucky enough to Bond with Nicole, and the odds of that were nearly as slim as winning the EarthGov-sponsored Galactic Lottery.

Nicole stepped forward, probably to try and patch things up, but Curtis stopped her. He wanted to fix this. He didn't know why or how, but he understood it was the right thing to do.

"I'm sorry, Kendra. I shouldn't have asked. That's terrible." She sniffled and tried to clean herself up with a dirty rag. Hopefully the ship's bathroom operated. "I've been through the same before. It's awful for the Marker to show you someone you love doing terrible things." All the memories of the false Nicole and the Shadow Man flooded back. "But we can beat it. _You _can. We're so close."

He was silent for a moment, taking in the idle sounds of dying machinery. Nicole stroked his brain, telling him that he did well. Honestly, he'd gotten most of the pep talk acumen from listening to Hammond. Kendra brushed some blood-streaked hair out of her face as she sat straighter. "Thank you, Curtis. I really needed that."

He felt himself smile. Making Nicole happy was special because they could share each other's joy. However, doing the same for other people was its own reward. "You're welcome. Anyway, I'm glad you're staying safe." He swallowed before asking another question. "Speaking of which, have you heard from Isaac?"

Nicole stepped up to the screen, mind ablaze with hope and fear. She was dying to know, because they hadn't heard anything. Kendra's face darkened.

"No. I was just about to ask you that. Haven't been getting anything from him at all, just like Hammond." His friend's mind fell, lapsing into blackness. The worst possibilities rushed in: stabbed, broken, mauled, maimed or sucked into space. Curtis couldn't say any of these terrible possibilities were unlikely. "Keep in touch, you two. And good luck." Kendra looked at them a second more before pulling the plug. The screen turned to pixels, then static before blipping into oblivion. That left them in the dark, windowless chamber, with faded lights and holographic computer screens as their only sources of illumination. How he envied Nicole, able to see in the dark. Sometimes, when he tried very hard, he could see through those four eyes, now glimmering in the gloam.

_Can you call him just in case? _Nicole asked, a modicum of forced hope in her mental "voice". He didn't understand how he comprehended tone and pitch like that, but he didn't question it.

_Sure, I'll do it right now, _he replied, already have queued up the call before she asked. He opted for a vid-log, because Isaac didn't actually say anything the last time he was spun an audio one. Still nothing. The holo-screen buzzed a few times before cutting out. _M-maybe he's just busy, _Curtis offered. Possible… but given everything on the ship wanting to kill them, preoccupation was on the lower end of the likelihood spectrum.

Nicole took this with as much grace as always, but she was being beaten so much inside that her spirit would soon be a bloody tumor. _It'll match my body then, _she joked, trying to poke fun at the fact that she was breaking. It made him wince, too – it would have even if no metaphysical Link tied them together. Her fear was palpable and very human. Isaac was special to her. Not in a romantic sense anymore, but he was still a friend, someone she'd shared so many years with.

Curtis never had anyone like that. Sure, he loved Nicole, but even their connection was no substitute for time. It would almost be like if he had real parents. He'd want to protect them no matter what. In other words, he felt her pain, but it wasn't something he truly grasped. Sympathy, not empathy, would have to guide him now.

He took her hand in his, feeling his five tiny, pathetic fingers interlace with her three enormous meat hooks. She shivered, and he brushed her mind with delicate words. _I know you're scared, but this won't help him, _he thought while running a hand across her bumpy, chitin-covered scalp._ Maybe he's already gotten the beacon and is waiting in the Mining Bay._

She sniffled – a sound that was both wet and dry – and nodded. _You always know what to say. _No, he really didn't. He'd never interacted with anyone in this way before. He still wasn't accustomed to giving a shit.

_Let's go find him. _They took an alternate exit this time, for both knew the Graverobber was still onto them…

**17 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Nicole and Curtis stepped off the great lift, their feet wet with the bodies of five or six more of her former (or so she claimed) family, all pulverized to pulp by falling several stories out of air vents. The distance they fell was too great to survive – they broke every bone in their bodies. Her only consolation was that they died upon impact… but that meant little with so many fatalities in such a short time. They clawed her soul from beyond the grave, mocking her even in true death. She often chastised Curtis for being so affected by events beyond his control, yet she now succumbed to self-loathing.

_It wants you off your game, _he reminded her. Didn't dent the impact of her hypocrisy. _It did all that on purpose just to make you upset. _And he was correct. Nicole had a difficult time comprehending something so despicable, especially from a self-proclaimed deity. It sent them to their deaths solely so she could feel their pain.

Especially twisted her after it confirmed it was indeed running out of bodies to throw at them. The fact its limited pawns lives were less important than angering her meant it didn't care about spreading Convergence so much as enacting petty revenge. It wasn't fit to be called a god, even if its powers made it akin to one. She'd no longer acquiesce to acknowledging it as such.

At this point, she really didn't know whether Convergence was the best path for humanity. It brought her great joy and pain at the same time. She used to think mutual understand and acceptance would unite them all in death. The problem was the utter malice of the Markers. With them at the lead (sans the Black), humanity would instead by shepherded into an eternity of darkness and suffering. Bleak worlds without end, complete with burning red skies. Exactly what she saw standing upon the cusp of death and instead being forced down a different path.

_I wasn't sure what I wanted before, _she told Curtis. Her guts still roiled with anguish, but one thing became clear through this experience. _If – no, _when _– we find a way to destroy it, I want to be the one who pulls the trigger._

_I have a pretty strong claim on that, too, _he thought back. _How about we both do it._

_Agreed. _Probably wouldn't be as simple as pressing a button to blow the thing up, though.

A couple minor skirmishes cropped up as they swept through the halls. The back of her mind was tickled by the Graverobber's distant presence. It followed farther behind than before, though it still pursued. They needed to remain cautious while planting the beacon. If it and its courier were here, anyway. _Please let Isaac be here, _she pleaded to the universe at large.

She wanted to be an atheist again, but being attached to the hive mind of a galaxy-spanning (and perhaps beyond) intellect changed her views on matters she once thought concrete, like life, death, time and space. For a brief moment, she was part of a godhead of a trillion, trillion souls. Therefore, she had to go out on a limb and hope someone was out there who could hear her desperate prayers and be kind enough to answer them.

_There's nothing wrong with wanting to believe in something, _Curtis thought while poking his head around a corner. _People have always looked to things bigger than themselves._

_Sounds like you speak from experience._

_Kind of. _He ducked back in, and they kept going. _I looked at a lot of different religions. There used to be hundreds. _Symbols, images, words and even sounds flashed in his brain like a grainy vid. Some were prominent enough for her to recognize – a cross, a star and crescent moon, etc. – but there were many more she was unfamiliar with. He was more invested in this search for meaning than she realized.

She understood, of course. Modern life was impersonal, boring and empty. Consumerism and state-sanctioned drugs got many people through their days. Most people were adept at dealing with that after years of social conditioning, but some never swallowed that pill. Though she wasn't a psychologist, she saw the results fairly often. She had patched up hundreds of attempted suicides over the years. In that sense, the aura of anguish and death pervading the Ishimura in the previous days was familiar territory.

_The trouble is, Unitology is the last one. I didn't like it much to begin with, but it's the only option. _They were close now. She knew that because he did. Funny how she had such faith in something she'd never seen with her own eyes. _I feel like I was born thousands of years too late. Sometimes I dream that I'm a farmer in the ancient past. _He shared some fragments with her, though they were badly distorted simply from being fantasies. The idea of swinging a backhoe, eating slop every meal and dealing with a lifespan a fraction of the 26th Century's wasn't her idea of a fulfilling life. _Nobody cares about anyone else nowadays._

Well, that was easily debunked, at least.

_I care about you. You care about me. _The sensation of their hands clasped together grew stronger, and she invoked them kissing on that bench. These words and memories soothed him, she knew, but the feeling that affection wouldn't be enough remained.

Regardless, they trudged into the final stretch. This was an ancient part of the ship: darker and wetter, like some ancient tomb. She even heard water sloshing nearby. There must have been a sluice grate to the labyrinthine water treatment system nearby – the place they met. Wouldn't want to go there again, though. The moisture pooled beneath her feet. Though ominous, she only detected one other Necromorph's consciousness nearby, and it definitely wasn't the Graverobber's. She still stalked them from a great distance, biding her time.

They reached the threshold very soon. It was a big, thick door. Nothing they hadn't seen before, although this one was made of a darker, nearly black metal, as opposed to more modern, grayer alloys. It also made Curtis freeze, nearly tripping as his limbic system reeled. _What's wrong? Is this the right Mining Bay?_

_Yeah, _he replied._ A little _too _right. _Memories of death, chaos and the Shadow Man made Curtis bite down on his tongue. She tasted the blood with her own, but then again, that was always the flavor. But that's when it hit her.

He was here, Mining Bay 10, when the shuttle from the colony crashed. The power went out. The sealant grid failed. People died. He left to bring the bad news to Captain Mathius, cheating death in a way. Probably wouldn't be alive if he stayed.

Nicole tore herself away from the ghastly half-recollections and focused on the door again. The mind she detected earlier was in there. Unlike many of their problems, this one would be easily solved. Might make Curtis feel better to kill a Necromorph in this specific room.

He put a hand on the door, which quickly laced its holographic interface over it, before slowly whirring open from the center to the edges. A very strange design, but also hypnotic. Shuffling came from beyond; Curtis methodically primed the tool, turned off the safety and fired where she directed as soon as the aperture open wide enough. Her sibling's pain analogue transferred to Nicole as his or her legs were blasted off.

"Ow! What did you do that for?!" a voice from beyond rasped. Nicole slapped her face with her palm, claws encompassing the rest of her skull. She was at once mortified and relieved beyond measure. She vaulted over the retracting metal before Curtis asked what this was about, and her dead heart leapt at the sight.

_Elizabeth!_

The woman was flush to the ground, her legs halfway across the room. The very big room. She already knew the layout from Curtis, but there was something special about seeing what the Ishimura was made for in person.

Tool racks were scattered around, as were a few crates. A whirlwind whipped around during the sealant grid collapse, but maybe Curtis could find a few power cells. Every surface was notched with gouges and grooves; these looked like work accidents that should have been fixed, but they were actually design features. Easy to grip and climb in Zero-G. The real object of interest was at the far end, though. An asteroid, pockmarked with pits from heavy mining before everything went to shit. Glimmers of mineral veins shone from within, testaments to the wealth of Aegis VII. A gravity beam trained on it occasionally sucked up loose pebbles. It might have been the same one they encountered earlier.

This was all thrilling, but someone else stole Nicole's attention. _Isaac!_

He stood a few feet away from Elizabeth, not shaken from the blast at all. No, he was… talking! About her! She only caught snippets because her attention was focused elsewhere. Relief permeated every infected cell and made her feel "alive" again. It was so good to have him active instead of withdrawn. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and tell him that she was there and wouldn't leave him again.

First, though, she had to apologize. She suppressed her joy for a moment and turned to her friend, who lay face-first on metal. Curtis crouched beside her, already profusely begging her pardon.

"I'm so, so sorry, Elizabeth! I had no idea it was you!"

"I am sorry, as well," she interjected. "We were… overzealous." Elizabeth shook her head as if this was a mere inconvenience akin to forgetting something at the store.

"It's all right. No harm done." They all looked at the steaming stumps where her legs used to be. "Um, give me a moment."

Very little Corruption around, but this particular room had a couple small patches that she could exploit. She hauled herself over with thick, crab-like claws and plopped her stumps on it. The substance gave a small display of resistance, pitifully trying to creep away like a slug from salt. Ultimately, though, her biology proved more resilient than even the Marker's willpower. It was inextricably drawn toward her, ceasing its struggle as it morphed into the sinew and bone of new limbs. She felt Curtis' inherent disgust, though he recognized he was in no position to judge. Also discomforting for Elizabeth herself, but the results couldn't be argued with. A moment later, and she stood up on two new legs.

"I'm surprised you can reconstitute yourself with the Marker angry at you," Curtis commented. Yeah, she wondered about that, too. The Marker couldn't "deactivate" rogue Necromorphs. However, from her understanding, it should have been able to tell the Corruption "don't get assimilated" or the like.

"Only because it's far away," she answered. "It could cancel out that ability if closer." That made sense… at least as much as the concept of instantly regenerating limbs possibly could. The obelisk had a greater degree of control over their physiologies at close range, as Nicole painfully learned. With that out of the way, she turned her focus back where it belonged.

"Anyway, Nicole's such a great person," Isaac babbled. Their entrance hadn't detracted from his monologue. "Kind, supportive, caring. I was so relieved when I found her again!"

It was heartwarming to hear Isaac speak so fondly of her; he was rarely jovial. His words sounded semi-romantic at times, but that couldn't have been right. He firmly established that they weren't together anymore. _Well, he's probably just happy to be alive._

"I'm happy to find you, too," she said while walking toward him. He turned toward her, allowing her to see his face. Though bruised, bloodied and swollen, he still smiled. His resilience was incredible.

_Wait, you don't – _Elizabeth tried to tell her something, but it had to wait. The fact he was here, alive, brought her such peace. But then his grin faltered as the reverie faded.

"Oh, it's you," he said, suddenly downcast. "Nicole said not to trust you. That you're lying about being her." Venomous words hit her like bullets. Much harder, in fact. More like _she _was the one who got her appendages chopped off. She nearly teetered over.

"W-what?" she gasped. Hadn't they gotten past this?! Didn't he already know?! What a fucking shithead! She wanted it to be that – more than anything! It _had _to be his fault that he acted this way! Because if it wasn't his fault, it meant the Marker won. It broke him. Before she could say or do anything she regretted, Curtis hauled her away. He had no happy place to bring her to. Good. She needed to stew in this. Isaac stared blankly at her for a moment before he again burst into chatter at the empty air. It made her growl.

"What the fuck happened to him?!" Curtis asked Elizabeth once they were a good distance away. "And how are you even here?!" In the confusion and heartbreak, Nicole hadn't thought to ask. Elizabeth looked shiftily around like this was a drug deal before squatting a little to be on their eye level; her demeanor obscured it, but she was nearly seven feet tall. Then she cleared her decaying throat and stroked the small tentacles before her mouth.

"After being frozen, the transport system brought me and Harris to one of those cryo-tubes. It was mostly him, though – I just hung from one of his arms." Elizabeth narrated via memories and images as she spoke; the words were for Curtis' benefit alone. Nicole forwarding _him _the recollections would be a game of telephone, so it was easier for her to simply narrate. "The system loaded him, but I fell off. If I hadn't… well, I can't imagine what Mercer would have done to me." All three of them shivered in a positive feedback loop.

"I thawed before too long and went to Hydroponics to look for you." Right, they mentioned that was their destination after whipping up that poison. "I arrived too late, though, so I started wandering like I used to. It's pure luck I ran into Isaac. He'd lost it, babbling about seeing you deep in the ship, but alive again." She shook her head, and Nicole tried to block out these images of him reduced to such a level. Not from the strong, confident man he used to be. "Seemed adamant in coming back here, so I gave him an escort. Honestly, I thought you two were dead."

"Well, we're not," she shot back (though she was very much dead, technically), still burning within from what happened to him. Though remiss to admit it, the Marker won. It tore his spirit and mind apart. Soon, he'd end up a gibbering animal or kill himself because "Nicole" demanded it.

How did they all fall prey to the same specter? Her ghost haunted two men and, through them, _her_. Her duplicitous alter-ego drove them to harmful, dangerous acts. It was her opposite in many ways, but the one that affected her most was its role as a butcher. As a doctor, she found it abhorrent that the Marker used her visage as a symbol of destruction. "And we're going to keep living."

She cocked her head. "You have something in mind, I take it?"

Nicole beamed their plan into Elizabeth's head, who had it deciphered in a matter of seconds: the beacon, signaling the military, grabbing the Marker and getting out. To her, it seemed like one Hell of a gamble. That much was clear from the expression on her mangled face. Still, she didn't question it. It's not like they had many other choices available.

"What about you? What will you do?" Curtis asked. Farther afield, Isaac started shouting nonsense about her. Despite not having blood, she felt her face burn, and the secondhand embarrassment was unlike anything she'd ever felt.

"You're my friends, believe it or not. I want to help you all. I want nothing more for you to escape and kill a god on the way out." She expected as much from a Necromorph whose antipathy for her own existence surpassed Nicole's own. Then her gaze fell, her mind softened, and she became something unlike the stoic warrior she needed to be over the past hours. "After that, I want to die and be with Jacob. There's nothing left for me here." Nicole didn't know what to say. How could she reply to something like that? The reasoning was clear enough, but what was the proper retort?

"I understand. I hope you find him, wherever he is," Curtis said. Nicole expected a repeat of what happened with Kendra, but was so distracted by Isaac that she hardly cared. Instead, though, a hint of a smile pushed its way onto Elizabeth's jagged, ill-defined mouth.

"Thank you. I hope so, too." Well, he could be articulate at times.

Even though hours remained until Elizabeth left them and they left everything else, that time seemed years away. Each second possessed the length of an hour aboard this vessel of nightmares. Mercifully, the next steps were straightforward enough – board the space rock, attach the device and jettison it. Curtis assured her that he could do it in his sleep. Would have been easier with Isaac helping, but asking for his assistance now was out of the question.

"All right, then. I'll get started."

**17 Hours, 45 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

The procedure was a cakewalk for Curtis. He'd spent years navigating the surface of stellar accretion debris. The addition of drilling into it to deposit something was hardly a factor. He deactivated the gravity, flew to the rock, avoided the plasma rakes (one of which came precipitously close to beheading him, for it was off its track) and then made it to the opposite side, breaching the sealant grid and floating in the vacuum of space. That used to be scary to him, but he barely thought anything of it anymore.

As he prepped the site, he spun a quick audio log to Kendra and pretty much told her that they'd found Elizabeth and Isaac, but that the latter was out of his goddamn mind. Though disappointed, she seemed understanding. Couldn't judge when the same monumental (and from a literal monument) force conspired against them all. He still felt the Marker hammer at his mind – stronger with Nicole not being here. Just strong enough to let the facsimile poke the edges of his brain. Oh, he understood how easily this thing was able to madden Isaac. It would have happened to him long ago if not for providence and luck.

He used the Line Gun to excavate a hole in which to stow the beacon. It made him laugh to use the tool for its intended purpose again. He closed his eyes and happily tore into the rock, all thoughts of the same implement slicing off limbs gone as he created the gap like the expert he was. Before his air was even a quarter gone, he made a hole large enough for the machine (which wasn't that big) and planted it within the softer substrate.

He gave the vacuum another look. Red suns, black void and a brown field of rocks occasionally shot at by the ADS. Most prominent of all, a gray planet with a crater 100 miles deep staring at him like a great, unblinking eye. Streaks of orange light shone within – reams of magma from the mantle bursting through the thick crust. It was apocalyptic and glorious in a way he never imagined. It humbled him to know humanity could end a world. _At least as well as the Marker can. _He didn't know whether to be comforted or disturbed by that thought.

Anyway, he edged between the asteroid and the Ishimura's hull, through the blue forcefield and back inside. The three others sort of aimlessly floated while Isaac still wouldn't shut the Hell up. It was both funny and fucking sad to see him brought so low. Difficult to explain _what _was even wrong with him or why. Even from Curtis' five or so minutes of layman observation, he seemed completely unlike anyone else under the Marker's thrall. Instead of being depressed and withdraw, he acted downright manic. Everything was great and beautiful and all that. The window dressing joy concealed something even darker, though.

The only person that came close to him was Kyne, which actually made Curtis wish Isaac _was _on the angrier side of the spectrum. Since Isaac hadn't expressed interest in killing anybody, Curtis was forced to conclude that the Marker wanted him – and, by extension, _them _– alive, or at least not completely dead. Necromorphs continued to attack them, but with this…

_Do you know why? _he asked Nicole while reactivating the gravity at a local console. He made sure the pull increased gradually over a few seconds so their descent was a pleasant one rather than aggressively slamming into the floor.

_No idea, _she replied, a quiver in her step as she landed. _Though I agree with you; it can't be anything good. _Curtis sighed and shook his head. It sucked, but they just needed to power through and reach the finish line.

All they needed to do was launch the thing. The door to the control room was right there, so they just walked over (Isaac was more dragged) while Curtis spun the codes he retrieved on the Processing subdeck into the system. A couple of beeps, and the thing sprang open. They stepped inside, Curtis for once relieved. This was it.

The space was fine. Nothing wanted to murder them. That was all he cared about by now. Being a hero was for suckers. He was hungry, thirsty, scared and so very, very tired. Curtis stumbled to the main console by a wide window overlooking the bay and somehow managed to disconnect the thing.

A hiss was audible through the thick, glass-like substance as the plasma rakes wobbled to a halt and fell limply to the sides. A burst of air rushed from the chamber as the sealant grid deactivated for a few seconds, taking the rest of the room's debris with it and bringing the asteroid itself for a ride. In lieu of rockets, a more natural method of propulsion could jettison ballast. They didn't have to worry about running out of air, either; oxides within the very planet they mined could be used to synthesize more. Truly, the universe provided for all their needs. Where did the Marker fit into that?

"Payload 8772 launched," the AI announced. This time the glitch was more subtle – no way they'd processed over 8,000 loads when this happened. That would take a couple hours, probably.

The comet lazily drifted into the void, shrinking to the size of an orange as they all watched. There was a sense of awe that came with it; Nicole thought it beautiful. Isaac also stopped yammering to watch to stare.

Kendra called up a few seconds later. He was glad he'd contacted her ahead. The sudden appearance of a crazed Isaac and two Necromorphs popping onto her screen might have freaked her out. She barely noticed them, though, instead jubilating in the fact it was almost finally over.

"Beacon's on its way!" she proclaimed. "All functions normal and broadcasting wideband. Now we just have to hope somebody's listening. I'll position the array receiver." Good, they needed that. Their connection to the greater Transnet was severed, but the giant radio dish atop the vessel was powerful enough to let them communicate with any ship in the system. The shockspace beacon was merely a cry for help; it couldn't communicate anything other than an SOS. Her fingers flew across her keyboard.

"I thought I saw my brother again. He waved to me. Like nothing was wrong." Her voice strained. Curtis kept his mouth shut this time. He was in no position to do this right now. Fortunately, she didn't break down. It was coming, but not yet. "OK, I should be able to… hmm. The comms array isn't responding."

Fuck! He wanted to scream and stomp around, then punch a wall until he broke his hands! Again?! _Again?! _That's not what he did, though, instead sucking down a sharp breath. He may not have had the energy to care at the moment, but lethargy also meant he was disinclined to have a tantrum about this _new _problem. Just like the dozens of disasters they'd needed to slap bandages on before. "What does that mean?" he asked, trying to get a read on the issue exactly.

"That we won't be able to receive any hails a military vessel sends us. One should shock into the system any minute now."

A red flag popped up. He capped it at one, because he didn't want to heap doubt upon doubt. But why the fuck did this matter? The ship was nearly there, and it was now able to locate them in the storm of debris. Curtis and company would get the Marker and dump it into the sun while the military salvaged the Ishimura to halt an economic downturn. That part he got… mostly.

So what if they couldn't communicate? In fact, didn't they _want _the government to believe there had been no survivors? He was suspicious now more than ever. But at the same time, maybe that doubt itself was artificial. What if the Marker wanted him to distrust those around him? That fit its modus operandi of sowing division perfectly. Kendra's brow furrowed as she recognized his apprehension.

"It's easy for me to say 'do this' when I'm in relative safety. But I promise, this'll be simpler than anything else you've done. Go to the Bridge, then up to the Comm Array's level and hit a few buttons." Sure, that _sounded _simple, but then they were invariably jumped by zombies and dragged through the shit. Still, they had Elizabeth with them now, which tilted the odds heavily in their favor. It'd also be a huge middle finger to the Marker. That in itself was a big factor in his decision. Of course, it wasn't his alone to make.

"And it _is_ important. You know how I used to be in the USM? I can use my old clearance to access back channels if the comms are up. For example, this system is quarantined. What if they've set up a blockade around the border or have issued kill-on-sight orders for any vessel leaving? We need to know that, or we'll never make it out." He began to see her point. The entire star system might be on lockdown from the most prestigious mining vessel in history breaking quarantine – and the CEC doing so for years under their noses.

EarthGov might also know about the Marker. That thought had been at the back of his mind for a long time. As he'd wondered before, why was the system off-limits to begin with? It might have been something unrelated or completely arbitrary, but the possibility was real. Another reason they needed to destroy it.

_Do you want to do this? _he asked Nicole while Kendra watched. For the first time, they had multiple options. An extra mission might make them safer in the long run, but the time it took would also shed their sanity even more. This was a big choice. Far too big for him to make alone. Even two seemed too few, but they were the only ones who _could _make it. Elizabeth never intended to leave the ship, so she had no opinion on the matter, and Isaac would be lucky to order food at a restaurant with how coherent he was.

_I don't know, _she replied. _I would, but not with _him _like this. _Yeah. They couldn't do much with Isaac, though. The only option besides having him tag along was dropping him off with Kendra and having her do it… and being an engineer, "Nicole" might encourage him to wreck the shuttle. It was horrible to think of the man as a potential enemy, but they couldn't be complacent where the Marker was concerned.

Nicole sighed through her nostrils. After a few seconds of internal debate, they were decided.

"We'll do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everybody. This took longer than I wanted. I was just swamped this summer, but I've given enough excuses about that. My classes start on Monday, and most are in-person (for now), which I appreciate. I'm a Super Senior, and either this or next semester will be my last – I'll be sure to wax poetic about my college days in future A/Ns.
> 
> We're entering the final act of the story, too. Everything is coming to a head, and the universe hangs in the balance. After this, I only expect there to be around six more chapters. Long chapters, mind you, but still. I'm excited to write them, and even more excited to turn my eyes to different projects!
> 
> Dead Space left a lot of hanging plot threads I'm attempting to integrate (the Oracles, primarily, but also elements from DS 2 that I haven't reached yet), and one of those is the fate of Isaac's father, who is alluded to in all of one log in DS 1. There was clearly a hook there that got buried and forgotten. It should go without saying that he'll eventually appear in my canon ;)
> 
> One last thing. At the time of this writing, Ordination is the longest Dead Space story ever. Out of the 400-ish Dead Space tales on FanFiction and 100-ish on AO3, this one has eclipsed them all, even full series. I haven't found any crossovers of comparable length, either. There're probably some mega-crossover fics with a few elements of the series, but those don't count. I never imagined I'd be able to create something so big in any fandom, let alone my favorite ever. And there are many, many more words left to go, so strap in!
> 
> Thanks to THEROCKETEURE, ACCELERATOR7460, RABIDPANZER, CELFRDDERWYDD, DERPYSAUCE, JASONVUK, CRIMSON AN'XILEEL and ANCIENTOFDAYZ for reviewing! As I sometimes say, my Ko-Fi is ANINVISIBLEMAN (most of my other online names are… I should change this one sometime) in case you want to kick a little change my way.


	24. Friction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone. Thanks for joining me again for another stop on this terror-filled voyage into space, mystery and romance! …I just imagined Ordination as a 50s or 60s B-movie with that as the poster tagline. Probably would've raised some eyebrows back then. Still would, so what can ya do?
> 
> I got kind of emotional writing a specific segment with Nicole where she muses on her responsibilities as a doctor. I think I've mentioned this before, but both my parents are physicians, and I've been very worried about them getting COVID because of their work. Again, thank you so much to all the health workers out there. I like to think I understand the work you do a little better than the average person.
> 
> Don't have much to report today. My classes are OK, and the workload isn't too bad yet (or I've just gotten indoctrinated). I'm extremely hopeful for an announcement on the Mass Effect trilogy remaster in the next few days. I hope you enjoy this chapter – the longest yet!
> 
> Special thanks to everyone who commented. I honestly just noticed I was listing the people who commented on my FanFiction.net version, which I frankly pay more attention to because I get more attention there. I don't appreciate my AO3 viewers enough, so if you're reading this, then thank you!

**18 Hours, 15 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Each step brought Curtis new agony. His muscles begged him to rest, but there could be none. His mind wobbled to the beat of heavy footfalls. Isaac stopped screaming – blood loss and insanity made him pass out a while ago; Elizabeth had him flung over her shoulders. The man whose blood flowed in Curtis' veins had been utterly wrecked by the relic. He surveyed the weary undead faces as they scraped along. Not pleased.

It was a long-ass walk from Mining to the Bridge. More of a death march, quite literally with the surroundings of unliving collagen creeping up the walls. There was more here than he'd ever seen before; encompassed everything in this barren stretch, covering the walls, grates, doors and lights. He relied on his flashlight and peering through Nicole's much keener eyes to keep going. Altogether, it gave the impression of plodding through someone's colon.

_Better than the alternative, _he thought to keep his heart pumping.

Mining had the unfortunate distinction of being the stop directly after the Bridge on the clockwise circuit, so hoofing it actually took less time, not to mention the Graverobber probably set up an ambush in the tram tunnels. It was done playing with its food. He'd inevitably have to take a ride, and probably soon, but he endeavored to tough it out for the time being. Just had to be strong and ignore that his body was _done._

Nearly a full day of abuse put him through the ringer – he was reminded of boxers who got beat up again and again but always dragged themselves out for one more round. That was him, except with an entire career crammed into that single awful, horrible day. He didn't know how he was still able to walk. And then, mercifully, he didn't walk at all.

He tripped on a piece of gristle while dragging his feet, and he didn't have the strength to fight gravity as he plummeted face-first into the ooze. Good, he wanted to rest for a while. Sleep began to claim him on the way down; his vision went blurry as the ground zoomed forward. It had been so long since the last time. He couldn't remember when that was. Nicole could take away his nightmares for a quiet rest.

Instead, she caught him.

_I know it's hard, but you _need _to keep going, _she chided, almost sounding like a mother talking to a child. Not in a browbeating or condescending way. Rather, it soothed and encouraged him like warm water. He hated that she had to shepherd him forward. _I understand wanting to give up. _She didn't have to share memories as she propped him upright. He was already privy to the pain she'd suffered from her kin rejecting her – how she was no longer part of the hive mind's glorious collective.

_That sounds like a better reason for despair, _he mentally grumbled. For now, he focused on putting one foot in front of the other and not falling again.

_Not really, _she replied. Couldn't hide the residual pain, and she didn't try to, but something else was more prevalent: hope. Not the naïve desire for everything to suddenly be OK, however. This was the kind that urged her to try even though it _wouldn't _be. Curtis was mystified about how she had anything of the sort. _Do you want to know why I have it?_

_Tell me, _he thought back. He already knew, though. It was sweet and syrupy and kind of cliché. But most of all, he was humbled by it.

_You. _Her mandibles bloomed into a toothy smile that melted his heart and triggered the tiniest bit of arousal; would've been more if he wasn't drop-dead exhausted. _You give me hope. _Curtis mulled it over, but there wasn't any doubt he felt the same way about her. _I know. _Of course she knew. Difficult to surprise each other.

Not impossible, though.

Nicole sprang forward, and his terror returned. Any human would fear a monstrous creature lunging at them in a flesh-tunnel, girlfriend or not. Fear faded the instant her maxillae touched his helmet and her tongue started trying to worm its way in. Heart racing, he scrambled to get the mask off. Excitement quashed notions of danger or urgency, and his knees went weak from something _else _as he finally retracted the damn thing.

Her tongue, which tasted of raw fish, entered his mouth before the helm retracted all the way, quickly followed by her claws running through his gore-streaked hair. Feeling comforted, he wrapped his arms around her thin waist, taking care to not snap her in half with his RIG's strength, just as she made sure to keep his face intact. They were so vulnerable to each other when they opened up (literally, for him). That made their relationship all the more intoxicating to him as he let her nibble his neck; razor-sharp fangs gently caressed the nape, prodding his jugular but not breaking through.

Her body was his own, in a way. His fingers grazed her arm, and he felt it. He smelled faint pheromones through her nose, heard distant dribbling with her acute ears. Words failed him about the sensation. All he knew was that it made them closer and more intimate than any two humans ever could be. Couldn't imagine what sex would feel like… though that was a concern for another day. It'd take some prep, but once they got out of here, he'd be excited to –

The sound of a throat clearing snapped him back to his own body. Elizabeth stood with blade-arms crossed, tapping a foot in the slop and looking about as amused as a bulky, tentacle-faced creature reasonably could. Isaac still weighed her down in a 400-pound piggyback ride. He leaked embarrassment that she saw that; no place for PDA in the apocalypse, especially in front of a woman who recently lost her boyfriend. Curtis, in fact, killed him.

"I've said it before, but you two make an adorable couple," Elizabeth churred, eyes sparkling. Oh. Well, as long as she was OK with it, they could continue making-out for a couple more hours.

_You wish, _Nicole thought, sashaying past him. His eyes were inexorably drawn to her butt, if it could be called that. Shapely in the sense that it was packed with muscle – enough to kick clean through a wall if she wanted to invest a few minutes – but normal people weren't into the gray, brown and salmon variegated look. He was probably the only man this side of the Orion Territories who found a split ribcage more appealing than a pair of breasts, or liked a scalp made for pounding things to dust more than a head of blonde locks.

Fortunately, she proved to be the only one he felt this way about, so he chalked it up to his weird fetishes being suppressed by things attempting to kill him. The Marker hadn't designed Necromorphs with sex appeal in mind, which Curtis honestly thought was a missed opportunity. Reforming the deceased into seducers rather than horrific beasts might have been more effective. They'd be able to get close before striking, like succubae inviting people into bed before feeding.

He shoved that thought aside and started up again. Best not to give it any more ideas about how to murder them.

Ironically, he began to wilt again as they went. The thing that motivated to keep marching was the implication of eventual sex with his Necromorph girlfriend. Not saving humanity or even protecting his own hide – the thought of carnal sex with a zombie. It didn't matter that she actually kind of enjoyed _being _one. He needed to get his head in the game. _And stop moping, while you're at it. _Like, this was neither the place nor the time. Instead, he toggled his light on and paid more attention to his steps.

The Corruption became even thicker as they walked. What began as an annoyance became genuinely hazardous as the layers stacked. Up to his ankles, then his shins. It stopped a little before reaching his knees, at which point he grabbed a loose shard of metal to approximate a machete while Nicole and Elizabeth sliced through it with their own natural weapons. His arms spasmed with every swing, begging him to stop, and the stench was nearly strong enough to knock him out. If the previous passage had been a colon, he didn't want to imagine what this mess resembled.

It affected them all. Nicole struggled to move as the substance tried to pull her in and disassemble her into its biomass. It never had a chance, but the notion unnerved her. Eventually, she resorted to using the ventilation system, something she hadn't done for a long time. Just leapt into one vent and popped out a few dozen feet ahead. Once, Elizabeth's leg went through what must have been a hole in the floor, for it left her in quicksand up to her thigh. Probably could have wriggled out if they had time, but they lacked that privileged commodity. A quick self-amputation and regeneration let them limp over the finish line to their destination.

Actually, Curtis didn't recognize it as such to begin. They rounded what his RIG claimed was the final corner, only to be met with a jiggling wall of Corruption. A dead-end.

_Where is it? _Nicole asked, feeling puzzled.

Curtis wondered if he'd somehow been mistaken and taken them down a wrong turn, but such fears settled when he looked closer. Blue light, so faint it barely tickled his brain, shone through a few small holes in the opaque meat-wall. _Behind the Corruption. _The door had been buried; pinpricks of light from the etched-on holographic display tunneled out. They'd seen it before, but not for one so large, and most were at least semi-visible.

"Well, this is annoying," Elizabeth muttered, giving voice to all their thoughts. Frustrating, irritating… but not deadly. Couldn't kill him unless he got unlucky and drowned in the stuff. The Marker only slowed them down until the big guns arrived. Nicole became increasingly sure that dark forces were on the move: a horde converged on them. He felt them through her – legion, and quickly gaining. An army had amassing, calling upon every able-bodied zombie on the ship to assemble. Curtis didn't want to imagine what came next, so he just got to work.

They started chipping away at the goo, him by digging in with his hands and shoveling it off like mud. The stuff clung to his fingers, not wanting to let go. Like his hands penetrating it, it tried to burrow into his head. Every cell had a mind, a consciousness, and all whispered at him. Not anything in particular, for their minds were tiny, no more than those of insects. Together, though, they produced a maddening scrabble. It perfectly mirrored the noise his fingers made as they began to scratch the metal underneath. Hard not to imagine the Marker liquifying his gray matter, brushing it in the same way until it all turned to slop.

The light came into full view as he sloughed a final handful away, just as Nicole and Elizabeth finished excavating their own segments. Kind of like mining, only every movement filled him with disgust. He stepped back to admire tarnished metal – not for its craft, but the novelty of seeing something manmade again. Corruption tendrils slowly snaked up to reclaim what was theirs. He ran a hand across slick steel.

"Do you guys know if there are Necromorphs past here?" he asked. Both women lapsed into themselves to find the answer, but both returned emptyhanded.

"Sorry," said Nicole. "There's too much Corruption on the other side. Many little minds can mask greater ones."

That made sense. If physical obstructions hindered psychic potential, walls of necrotic tissue amplified the issue exponentially. He imagined it like ECM cancelling radar – filling their senses with junk data to drown out anything useful. Another devious use for the pesky goo. They'd have to find out for themselves. First, though, he had to call Kendra and get the scoop on whatever was up.

"_The scoop"? Really? _Nicole thought as he spun her the vid-log.

_Stay out of my head if you don't like the way I think, _he shot back. The woman answered shortly thereafter. She looked unchanged, which Curtis would take as a positive.

"Kendra, we're here," he said, pivoting the screen to give her a view of the door to the Main Atrium. "How's it going?"

"Things are looking up. A military ship _finally _shocked into the system." He hunched over and sighed. The news should have ruffled his feathers. Honestly, though, Curtis felt relief. Knowing humans were around again (still several AU away, but that was closer than lightyears) brought him a little peace, even if said humans were likely to murder them on sight. No longer were they alone with the Marker's dreadful mind. Nicole was apprehensive, however, which he also understood.

"It's called the 'USM Valor'." A good name. Hopefully the crew lived up to it when they saw this shit. "We won't receive signals from them until the Comms Array is back up. I've already hacked the doors; they were on lockdown from Mathius."

Curtis recalled that, indeed, the Captain prevented a distress call from being sent out because he was worried about protecting his own neck. Ironically, that selfishness saved humanity. If it had been sent out at the time, EarthGov would have arrived hours ago. They wouldn't have had time to move the Marker (they still might not), so the government would have gotten their grubby hands on it already. So much death, but he was glad that hadn't yet come to pass.

Good also bloomed in the decay. What happened here was monstrous, but at least he met some good people and fell in love. That in no way balanced the lives lost, but he needed to find beauty where he could. He was already dead if he had nothing to fight for.

"Anything else?" he asked, trying to hide the tremble in his voice.

"Yeah, two other things." Kendra inhaled sharply and twitched a couple times. "I've been getting some weird readings on the local comms for a while now. At first, I wasn't sure what they were, but now I know. Somebody's listening in on our conversations."

That… wasn't what he expected. His companions looked at each other, gossiping in their own heads, but his thoughts were more self-contained. _Who could it be? Mercer? Kyne? Someone I don't know at all? _Any of those were possible. As recent events proved, there might still be one or two normal people eking out pitiful existences deep within the hive. Hadn't seen either of the scientists in a long time, either, particularly Kyne.

Ironically, he felt less safe now. All that talk about wanting other people around was down the drain. None of them were secure with someone listening in – maybe able to track his RIG, too.

"We'll be careful," he replied, though everyone knew caution only got them so far. Every action they undertook incurred the Marker's wrath… which had probably been a lifesaver for Kendra, now that he considered it. A more intelligent rock would have sent a contingent to destroy their way out, but frankly, it was stupid and angry and more intent on murdering _them _than the pesky woman on the sidelines. _Whoever's eavesdropping on us might, though. _"And what's the second?"

This one was less contentious. "I've patched back into the Computer Core and am in the middle of destroying everything. There won't be a single kilobyte of data when the Valor's crew boards." It surprised him Kendra was willing to do this. Computer people seemed the most likely to want to save information about stuff like this for the sake of knowledge. Then again, Hammond was no longer around to insist the data got back to his corporate masters.

"Didn't you also say you downloaded copies onto your RIG?" he offhandedly remarked.

"Of everything relevant, yes. Those are now deleted." All right, he'd trust her – not that he had much choice. They'd gotten along better recently, and he couldn't believe the Marker made her completely batty yet. Despite looking worse for wear, she was the picture of health compared to Isaac. "There will be no way to know for sure what happened."

"What about all the sludge from dead people?" Elizabeth interjected, while Nicole's shiver ran down his spine. They knew perfectly well what fate would befall their bodies once the Marker no longer broke reality to sustain them. Much like fantasy armies conjured by sorcerous warlords (hey, he enjoyed that kind of stuff on occasion), they expired once their master had been defeated, leaving nothing but primordial organic soup.

"I'm still working on that part. My best guess is that they'll think the Ishimura was the target of a bioweapon attack." That… wasn't implausible. There had been several high-profile attacks on Planet Crackers over the years. That's why they needed PCSI Security and the like. These came not just from radical Unitologists (though most did), but also anarchists, anti-corporate cells and ecoterrorists. Besides, the Unitologists didn't believe the Marker did anything like this. Nobody would possibly suspect it, save the upper echelons of the CEC, for they already knew. Sucked, but nothing he could do about that part.

They exchanged a few more notes before hanging up, during which time Curtis carefully surveyed Kendra's mien; wanted to see how much worse she was than earlier. Difficult to get better once the degeneration set in, yet she seemed to hold out. Her face ticked at times and her incessant typing had slowed, but no dramatic change in character occurred. Much better than Isaac, who now began to stir slightly. He'd awaken soon.

After bidding each other final farewells, he turned the screen off.

_Let's go, _thought Nicole with a renewed sense of urgency. What was left of her brow furrowed, and her claws rhythmically tapped against her hip. Unease exuded from her as readily as joy once did. This apprehension wasn't just about whoever spied on them (though a lot fell that way), but the future, as well. With the Valor arrived, they entered the home stretch. _Home._

He saw his apartment on the Sprawl in his mind's eye. The Weyland-Yutani stove, his soft bed and the perpetual view of Saturn… he wanted nothing more than to be back. It wasn't much, but it was everything he had – except Nicole, of course. It was what he'd take her back to. The prison she'd be forced to spend the rest of eternity in. He almost didn't want the nightmare to end, for he'd have to confront another once it did

One that was far more _real._

**18 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Nicole wrenched herself free from her and Curtis' shared delusions. That wasn't easy to do, and slicing through a wall of meat hardly provided a suitable distraction. The door slid away, revealing another fleshy barricade on the other side. The absurdity made her chuckle as she slowly hacked away. She again found herself drawn to the great unknown, a mental maelstrom that grew with every small victory.

_What am I going to do?_

After the shuttle was prepared and the Marker brought aboard for "disposal"… what then? She would die – permanently – without its life-sustaining energy. It angered her beyond belief that her existence hinged upon this monstrous, vile being. The Marker didn't care about any of its "children" beyond what use it wrung from their corpses. Her kith only loved it because of all the brainwashing. Difficult to think she once called it "father", let alone worshipped it. But she needed its power, and she had no clue how that'd work once it was gone.

That was merely step one. What next? She'd have to live in Curtis' apartment for all eternity; it would be her tomb. Frankly, she'd rather die than "live" like that. She loved him, but love didn't suffice. Her claws redoubled their efforts rending skin and bone.

_I think you're done, _Curtis thought, which made her mandibles angrily chatter. He had no right to be the literal thought police. _That's not what I meant. _She opened her eyes and felt more than a little embarrassed between what she saw and Elizabeth's amusement.

The wall was gone now, torn through by implements designed for exactly that, which left her pawing the air. The Atrium beyond was virtually unrecognizable since their last jaunt through. That was to say, most everything was _buried _in Corruption. From consoles to desks, the world froze in a flashflood of flesh.

Tentacles hung from the ceiling like vines, idly swinging back and forth. Veritable stalagmites of gristle and bone protruded from the floor, seeping ichor from breathing pores. A few rudimentary eyes gazed at them – that was an adaptation they hadn't "seen" for a while. The only surfaces not engulfed were windows, which only possessed cursory blights along the edges. Sunlight leaked through them – red. All this surrounded the central elevator column, which now formed a bulbous, horrific pillar.

Curtis turned away physically, but the sight was too macabre to ignore. His vision bored through her eyes, so she shut them to spare him pain, which she almost regretted. To her, it was beautiful, the Necromorph equivalent of a tropical paradise. Just needed a pool of blood to be set. Admittedly, the fact everything internally screamed at her dampened the mood.

"Please tell me we don't have to go through there," he weakly protested, but he knew it needed to happen. He needed to be brave and cross this hellscape to reach their goal. That didn't prevent terror from ringing in his mind like a gong.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "but you can do it." They had to cross a room for the thousandth time. Now it would just be a little _gooier_.

Isaac stirred on Elizabeth's shoulders, jiggling his legs as he ran from invisible threats in the dreamscape. That was a kick to get moving. She didn't want him waking up on the way across. Him screaming about the surroundings would get him killed _at least_. Curtis didn't protest, instead taking her hand and stepping into his worst nightmare.

The morass wasn't any deeper than before, thank goodness. Still up to about her calves, which was nearly Curtis' knees. Wild that she stood taller than him. She enjoyed being able to look over his head; it seemed like she came up to Isaac's chest when she was alive.

She shook her head as they crossed the great decay. Curtis practically cryed into her shoulder, which made the atmosphere more daunting. He was exhausted and fucking terrified. She wished she knew how to make it better. Her healing skills didn't extend that far. In fact, his thoughts tainted her, turning them toward the dark future.

_How do I make it work? _she haggardly thought to Elizabeth, fears running rampant. Asking was probably pointless, but she wanted to get her feelings out there to someone more stable. One would assume being with Isaac for so long and planning to _marry _him endowed insight. It didn't. She loved him, but them being together was easy. His temperament was amiable (when not dealing with Unitologists), they both had careers and she had money. Nothing particularly grim happened to either during their relationship. Really, they got lucky. Whatever happened with Curtis would be exponentially more difficult in every way.

Elizabeth's time with Jacob was much tougher and more relevant. Nicole experienced it practically firsthand. Oh, she already knew the details. Their kind had no personal space and no reluctance sharing memories, so those days and nights now belonged to her, as well, though she tried to distance herself from the overtly sexual recollections… that might have been excessive, Nicole admitted. But she could only sense the _what, where _and _who, _not the _how _or _why_.

_Well, you've already seen most of it, _the woman replied as they gingerly trod forward, toes probing for anything unusual on the floor. Nicole remembered a few asteroids punched through on her first visit, so they needed to be careful not to fall down one of the holes. _Our parents didn't approve. We didn't have money, rushing from one job to another to make ends meet. _She saw sleepless nights and ugly days, both of them doing their best to scrape against the tides. Not the life she wanted for her and Curtis.

_But how?_

_Honestly? It was brutal, _she thought, tension in her mind and a dim glint in her eyes_. Scraping from paycheck to paycheck, largely living hand-to-mouth. We limped through school because of scholarships and EarthGov grants on the promise that we work at one of their approved companies for a while. _Hence why they were with the CEC right now.

She and Isaac had similar difficulties, but not to the same degree. Despite her family's lack of support, she still had resources from her background, and Isaac was a uniquely talented individual who could have aced every engineering class asleep and with one hand tied behind his back. Needless to say, Curtis wasn't as smart, a blunt thought at which she cringed. She respected his gall and gusto, but he wasn't suited for intellectual pursuits. _At least we're both out of school._

The other matter was age. Curtis was 31, and Jacob and Elizabeth were a little younger. Nicole was 39 – not a ton older, but a fair deal. Besides, Isaac was a decade _her _senior, so that wasn't too bad.

The Corruption's needles prickled her mind with each step. Every thought became a new tiny fingernail into her decentralized nervous system. They compounded by the thousands, wrapping iron chains around her wrists and ankles. Her body swam with hatred and pain. Like jealous lovers, the rest of her kith wanted to tear her down, and her own flesh betrayed her. Try as she might to resist, she longed to be made whole. Curtis sensed her anguish through their Link, yet he could never understand it. Not really. She appreciated his sympathy, though she was grateful for someone with a more empathic perspective.

_You feel it, too, _she said to Elizabeth, hardly needing confirmation. The desire to be united again with the hive mind elicited many allusions, none of them pleasant. A starving dog gnawing at a bone. The first chill of a long, biting winter. A hurricane's eye, surrounded on all sides by danger. All-encompassing loss and the need to fill the void.

_It's not as bad for me, _she replied, edging around the rim of a crater. Nicole's own toes flared out with each step, probing the unknown space beneath them. _There's nothing tying me to this world anymore. Why should I care what happens to me?_

_Are you sure you don't want to come with us? _The woman sounded decisive about her choice, but she wanted to be certain.

_Maybe if Jacob were still around. Maybe. _She threw a glance at Nicole's boyfriend, who slogged along, before adding something else. _Not that I blame Curtis for killing him. I'm grateful, in fact. I felt him trapped inside his own head, unable to break free with those wires and gears laced through him. He would have rather died than hurt anyone. But without him, I have nothing._

_I completely understand. _As she'd already established, Curtis and Isaac were just about the only incentives _she_ had left to persevere. Lose either or both of them, and she'd just as soon jump out an airlock. _Like Curtis said, I hope you find him._

Gratitude wrapped around her like a warm quilt. _Thank you._

By this point, the end was near. Both men kept it together better than she expected. Then again, in Isaac's case, that was because he was still asleep. Still asleep, but stirring…

"W-where am I? What is this?" Isaac fell off her back and into the muck, coming face-to-face with a disembodied eyeball. It blinked at him. He started screaming.

"What the fuck?! The Hell is this?!" he shrieked, every movement of his head bringing new terror. Nicole moved to quiet him down, but it backfired. He started reaching for his Plasma Cutter. "Get away from me, freak!" She wasn't surprised by the word. Barely offended, either. She'd been called so much worse. Curtis stepped between them.

"Please calm down. Nicole isn't going to hurt you!" The other man cringed at the attachment of her name to, in his view, an undead predator. "I'm – I'm sorry. _Not _Nicole."

And that was what really got her. She knew Isaac had to be appeased to keep him from doing anything stupid. That didn't prevent the denial from smacking her in the face. It stung so much that the ground beginning to quake didn't seem like such a big deal for a second. Not until she remembered what they faced.

They were here. The ground and walls hummed with new thoughts. Evil thoughts. Thoughts she wanted to escape from. Isaac apparently did, too, for he was scared into running for the elevator, which Elizabeth, Curtis and herself right behind. The first of them burst through the ground right as the doors closed.

…

Curtis thanked God the elevator wasn't filled with Swarmers or animate Divider heads as they haltingly ascended. Which God? Hard to say. Wasn't either of the Markers. He'd chalk it up to "the will of the universe" or "fate" or "cosmic destiny" or some similar cliché force. Why be sectarian? Had to believe _something _greater than an inky stone looked out for him, because he didn't see how else he hadn't died yet, and that force probably didn't care about worship.

Every couple seconds, a new sound or bump made him certain the Necromorphs caught up climbing the shaft after them. Never came to pass, but his paranoia grew with each one. They couldn't disembark soon enough.

At length, the elevator finally arrived at the "highest" level, and the four stepped off, Isaac mumbling to himself as they traversed the slimy path. This was less dangerous than him openly giggling, but none of the annoyance factor was lost.

_We've been here before, _he casually remarked to Nicole as they looked around. _This is where that ADS cannon was. _He cocked his head toward one of the many honeycombed tunnels they passed. Indeed, the anti-life-giving jelly reminded him of a sinister beehive, with all the Necromorphs as nameless drones. "Drone" used to be Nicole's self-appointed name, which made it more obvious. Bees had all gone extinct, so he based this on, again, old nature vids.

The point was that he'd rather not be here. He'd said all it before. Had to put his money where his brain was and focus on danger before dreams.

However, nothing much yelled "threat" at him. No Necromorphs that he saw, though the horde in the Atrium wasn't far behind. There was ever-present pounding at his head from dark forces (most prominently the facsimile Nicole), but that didn't compare to being torn limb from limb. He wished he knew what they planned. The suspense would kill him before _they_ did.

His map led them closer to the Array, past haunted tunnels and fields of the damned. So much death. He was reminded of the "mausoleum ships" he'd read about. Just rumors – nothing proved they existed other than grainy vids and a few testimonials – but they'd been on his mind _a lot _recently.

Supposedly, they were space-borne necropolises, the final resting place of every Unitologist who died with the Church. Waiting in the void, drifting between stars with cryonically or chemically preserved passengers. Waiting for Convergence. Well, Convergence was here, so maybe he'd find out whether the legends were true sooner than he wanted.

A little deeper, they ran into a Guardian, anchored to the wall and screaming as per usual. Hadn't seen one of them for a long time. That confirmed the Comms Array was extremely important; it existed only to protect this specific landmark. It also existed to die again.

The purpose of its roars turned from intimidation to terror as Elizabeth casually approached. The thing jiggled, possibly trying to run away but forgetting it was sessile as a mollusk. May not have been smart, but it knew it was fucked. A bone-tipped intestinal whip flew out of its stomach and knocked her head off, but the woman didn't so much as flinch.

Nicole still regretted watching another Necromorph about to be eviscerated, but it was now tinged with schadenfreude. They didn't want her? What about now? That made Curtis feel less skeevy for tiredly giggling as a headless Elizabeth ripped the unliving guard from its perch and shredded it in half. Weaponized entrails flopped on the floor as it let out a death rattle before going still.

_I wish we had her earlier, _was all he had time to think before her neck stump boiled and a new head burst out. She gave her old head a sideways glance before kicking it away.

They followed his holographic map through tunnels and turns, usually sticking to bigger ones. Ran into a few more Guardians along the way, which Elizabeth eliminated with casual ease. The same perverse joy followed, the mixture of gloating and disgust not quite his own. Nothing really changed on the Ishimura. It became a place outside time, with hours and minutes measurable only by digital clocks and the creeping substance on the walls. Without those, he would have suspected his journeys lasted 1,000 years.

Nearly there now. His flashlight was perpetually on, as were Isaac's insane mumblings. The pile of hours crushed him and his patience. His blood boiled, and it took all his willpower to keep his clenched fists from lashing out at everyone. _That's what the Marker wants, _he told himself. _It's what _she _wants. _The idea of irking her – or _it_, he didn't care anymore – made him relax his hands. The ghost in his head was not pleased.

Phantom Nicole's hand brushed his face, and her teeth sank into his neck. They hurt. A lot. Real Nicole cringed at the pain. Powerful as their Bond was, he feared it might fail. The Marker assailed it for hours, and the cracks were starting to show, much like the fissures between _them_. Nicole distanced herself from him ever since what happened with Isaac – he had to deny her personhood to calm him down. He thought she'd appreciate him trying to be a peacemaker.

One final turn, and they arrived at the last door. He actually saw it this time, as it hadn't been completely overgrown. Still some Corruption, though, so he hung back and started to spin Kendra a vid-log while the ladies cleared it. Their weed whacking went for a few seconds before a little tone played. Nobody picked up.

Unnerved, he tried again. Nothing. His fear was only offset by Isaac shuffling forward and breathing on him, which creeped him out more.

He shook Isaac away and tried a final time; his dirty mouth creased as the call again refused to connect. He nearly began to panic, but his concern faded as he spotted an unread text file on the holo-screen. He greedily popped it open, and immediately his fear rebounded, skyrocketing with the few words displayed.

**Can't talk – Necros near. Hv 2 take them out. **A rotting hand crushed his organs upon reading the words. Well, he was the one who thought that was an issue. He still didn't know if the Red Marker could read his mind in the way it could Nicole's, but it seemed likely. They were Bound, so it probably at least picked up his residual notions. In fact, maybe he'd been giving it ideas this whole time! It's not like most Necromorphs, meat puppets they were, overflowed with great, original ideas to help their master. Like sending a force to wreck their shuttle and kill Kendra.

He collapsed, shivering. He was lucky nothing remained in his stomach to vomit. Why did he always do this?! Why did he get people murdered?! Nicole rushed over to him, already knowing all that he did. The shade grinned and licked her bloodied chops.

People stood over him, but they were merely dim shadows. He glanced at the file again while lying on his side before realizing there was a second line he had neglected.

**Take cart 2 comm array. Align six dishes in circle. Dont call til finished. Good luck :3**

He reluctantly sat up, taking in the message while others whispered. None of that was clear, especially the little thing at the end.

"'Colon three'. Anyone know what that means?" he asked, wobbling to his feet. Somehow, these two symbols made him compose himself to think. So out of place.

"I think it's old Transnet slang. Pre-Transnet, maybe," Elizabeth mused. "I think it's supposed to be a smiley face. Like, the dots are the eyes?" Hmm. It indeed resembled that if he squinted. But why not use parentheses instead of a three? Kendra must have been into _really _old-school culture if she casually used such archaic stuff.

This was stupid, he realized. Took long enough to dawn on him. Shrugging off his fascination about old online dialects, he instead rededicated himself to important matters, like making sure humanity didn't die an agonizing death. He dusted himself off and opened the door, painfully aware of all the eyes on him, real and otherwise.

The door wrenched away, revealing a small palanquin suspended on a wire. It was just big enough for all of them. The only thing like it he'd seen were the cable car in Fuel Storage. The part about "taking the cart" now made sense. He poked his head out.

The tunnel stretched seemingly forever, and its walls were rimmed with piping and tubes. It took a moment to discern what they were; faint heat provided a clue, but he only detected that through his Bonded one. At least some of them were part of the water treatment system. Might seem odd that the gutter flowed so close to the gunwales where nobody needed it, but "sewer" was only one element of the arrangement. He'd been on enough ships and space stations to know basic truths about the emptiness, even if the science eluded him.

One of those facts was that objects in space only lost heat via radiation. Everything on a Planet Cracker, from engines to electronics to smelting, produced massive quantities of heat, so much that the crew would be cooked alive without an efficient system of transporting it to the hull. That role was fulfilled by passing water across heat-producing mechanisms and funneling it toward the exterior, after which it was cool again.

He peered into oblivion, but there was no end. Nicole's far superior vision couldn't detect anything, either. He doublechecked the map to make sure his mind hadn't deceived him, but indeed, this was the destination. _How far down is the array? _he mused while silently voicing that same question to the RIG. The answer appeared on his holo-screen. His eyes followed the two-dimensional rendition of the Ishimura from bow to stern. They were at the fore now, along with the rest of the Bridge, but to his surprise, their target waited at the other end.

The Comms Array was located at the far aft, above the Engineering Deck. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why.

"It's not a common composition," Elizabeth said. "Jacob told me about it before all this; the setup fascinated him. This is the only path. It was designed like this in case of mutiny – the comms would have to be shut down so the Captain couldn't call for backup." And where would the person in charge have the most support? The Bridge, of course, surrounded by people who answered directly to him or her. That backfired when the system failed and it couldn't easily be accessed for repairs. But it made sense.

The car gently swung under their weight as they boarded. This would be a voyage into the unknown unlike any other. Hopefully it'd also be a fun ride while it lasted. Curtis pushed a button on the front, and they were off.

They travelled at a rapid clip, far quicker than the tram. The lighter mass of the car compared with the trolley and the fact this track was a straight line instead of a rambling maze synergized to make the journey take minutes. It made the multi-mile ship seem so small. Even the biggest human works were ants compared to the planets and stars nature crafted.

Wasn't sure _why _so many planets had to be destroyed to serve humanity. He'd always been curious about that. It was excess on a galactic scale, and most of the materials went to waste once the next haul arrived. Call it human greed. Enough was never enough for some people – and especially non-people like corporations and the government. The CEC and Wey-Yu and EarthGov wrecked everything they touched yet always wanted more. Everyone knew it, but what could they do?

He was jarred out of his thoughts by Nicole, uncharacteristically giddy at the moment. Wind hit her face, blowing an idle piece of debris from her scalp, but it was otherwise unflappable. _We're almost there_. A long claw pointing down the tunnel accompanied her remark. A faint light shone on the left-hand side, growing brighter. Isaac's ramblings and his own fears faded away for a brief moment as he stared at the glow. So pretty. Like a moth to a flame, he felt a moment of comfort before the burn. He wasn't at all surprised when something fucked it up. Fate wouldn't let him have the smallest scrap of pleasure.

The walls exploded, raining dust and metal on the four. His heart nearly exploded or shriveled from the pressure – he knew not which. What he _did _know was the cause: Necromorphs. Wasn't difficult to figure out, with the ear-bleeding roars and all. The time for fight or flight came again, yet being able to do neither made him impotent.

Another explosion happened atop them. This blast was powerful enough to knock him over. His metal-clad ass dragged across the cart, and he screamed as his head passed under the metal guardrail, coming to a stop an inch before occasionally jutting metal pipes that would have sheared the top of it off.

"Holy shit!" screamed Isaac over the din. That was the most comprehensible thing he'd said in a while. Curtis tried to scramble up, but a mass of soft, cold flesh landed on him. He tried to gently shove her off him, but his friend wasn't getting the message!

"Elizabeth, can you please move – " He brushed a handful of grime from his visor, only to be confronted by an Infector. He shrieked like a child as its proboscis shot out, strangling him with its wings while he weakly wiggled around. "H-help!" he gasped, and it immediately came.

Nicole leapt out of the mist and ripped the monster from his throat. He nearly felt sorry for the creature, which squirmed in her iron grasp as he struggled to breathe. _Are you all right?!_

_Y-yes, _he replied, feeling the car begin to slow. Her squirming innards calmed at the affirmation, and she turned her attention back to her prisoner. Infectors were quite weak if they couldn't use their membranous wings to engulf prey. Those were no longer issues as Nicole plucked them off as easily as wings from a butterfly and tossed the ratcheting meat back where it belonged.

The fog split as it hit the bottom in a sea of Necromorphs. Hundreds of them thrashed there. The entire army followed them up. And just when Curtis wanted to keep running, their vehicle came to a full and complete stop.

He glanced back at the horde, crouching behind the guardrail as he did so. The darkness and poor vantage point gave him only a faint estimation of their distance. Nicole's connection with them helped, though the sheer amount of hatred the army exuded made him loathe to share her senses more than a moment. Hundreds of them clamored and roared at them from a distance.

However, they didn't pursue: at least not quickly. The army remained more or less entrenched in the tunnel's barricades, advancing the phalanx at a sloth's pace. There was also a screeching sound that _might _have been a particularly incensed Necromorph but was more likely the cable being severed so they'd fall into a pit of spikes and death on the return trip.

He wanted to feel angry. That happened a lot now. Indignation was the correct mindset to have when the world wanted to sink its blades into his chest. But he couldn't harness the inner fire to fuel rage. He was too tired, too resigned. The most he could do was be slightly miffed. Honestly, if he did get Kendra killed by _thinking _too much, dying was all right. He couldn't handle a single person more perishing because of him.

They walked into the antechamber the tram linked to, no longer on guard. The scene behind them implied danger wouldn't come from the front. He thought his supply of surprise had been exhausted by this point, but something about the chamber caught him off-guard.

There was carpet.

Not the most exciting thing in the world, but it'd be _such _a nice place to lay down, curl up and rest. The king-sized luxury mattress invited him to go down, but he reluctantly refused. A few lockers, some tools along the walls. Not a ton here.

The sole other notable feature was the view. It wasn't the usual one of space, however. Rather, it was of the fabled Comms Array they'd long sought. Almost a spacer legend to him at this point, akin to troves of precious metals hidden in the baffles. Obviously, this was something every ship possessed, but it had been alluded to often enough to seem mythic.

Out the window was a gunmetal gray pit. Quite large, though not the size of a Mining Bay or the Z-Ball arena. The hole was occupied by a thin metal rod – the main dish. It didn't look anything like a regular satellite dish, for those hadn't changed much in centuries. But this was a very special sort of relay. Instead of merely directing radio waves from one place to another, it tore reality asunder to send them through shockspace instead. Spaceships used that alternate dimension to traverse the galaxy in a matter of days. Something already moving at lightspeed did so nearly instantaneously, which was the backbone of the Transnet.

That's not the function they needed, though. The thing also doubled as an in-system receptor if need be. The Marker would meet its end far away from Earth. Nobody save the Valor needed to know, and there wouldn't be definitive proof with Kendra busy wiping every shred of data.

Surrounding this central node were walls bracketed with electronics of all sorts. The most obvious were miniature relay panels that pumped outgoing communications into the central hub. Utterly obscure to him, but Isaac surely knew their functions in lieu of Kendra. Just a matter of convincing him to put his remaining faculties to work. Most sparked and crackled as broken electronics did; the Marker may not have been smart, but it had enough sense to have some of its forces wreck shit.

And, like everything on the Ishimura, size mattered. The thing was probably 20 times the size of any another vessel he'd ever served on. Most were small enough that the dish, at least, was completely external.

"Six dishes in a circle. What does that mean?" he mumbled. That's what Kendra said. He wanted to call her up again, but he needed for her to reach out. Either she'd turned off those functions on her RIG, which would make him even more upset when she didn't answer, or she'd forgotten to disable them, which would draw blow her cover, and then she'd be dead for sure. Trust needed to come first.

"I see," Isaac murmured. "Those smaller dishes. Move six of them to be in the same radius."

More of a hexagon, but close enough. Why the Hell was he being so pedantic about this? His eyes traversed the coliseum to discern whether or not that was possible.

Most of the panels looked utterly wrecked, their wiring floating like intestines in Zero-G, but six looked intact. Just their luck, which still came through strong enough to give them a snowball's chance in Hell – not very much, but _something_.

Time ran out, so they quickly hashed out a plan. He and Nicole operated impeccably in tandem, so they needed to work on moving the dishes, as did Isaac, their tech guy (hopefully he could do it). Elizabeth, meanwhile, would be their illustrious lookout, making sure they didn't get overrun. If they _did_… well, she wanted to die, anyway, and being ripped to shreds from all sides might do the trick. A Viking funeral would be a better death than most others.

"I can't," Isaac mumbled. "Nicole doesn't want me to."

Actually, she _did _if her mounting impatience was any indication. He knew she wanted to stay calm, but she'd had enough. Her warm emotions chilled, and her jagged mouth curved into a snarl as her mandibles pulled down. Elizabeth quickly scuttled to her station, not wanting to get caught in domestic affairs. Curtis couldn't blame her, because he was fucking mortified. Secondhand embarrassment had always been strong for him, and it was infinitely worse with him plugged into her head.

"Yes, Nicole _does_. Come with us, or you're going to die." Isaac stood there for a moment. Being only human, Curtis couldn't discern what roiled beneath his helm. He saw only a stoic golem frozen in place.

Then he started crying. It started as a gurgle in his throat, quickly growing into a soft wail. Kind of surreal for a 50-year-old man to weep like this, but Curtis was sympathetic. Looking "mature" didn't matter in the grasp of death. There was no point saving face now. Nicole was immediately crushed.

"I'm sorry Isaac. I didn't mean – " He shoved her in the chest and sent her tumbling backward before running into the next room, footsteps and sobs going with him. An iron brand struck Curtis' back, and he began to pursue the man. How dare he?! However, he was halted before he'd taken five steps. _I'm fine. Don't worry about it. _He stopped running, but the anger remained. Now it was directed at her.

She forgave Isaac shoving her, but him thinking the wrong thing was egregious? He scoffed and rolled his eyes but still helped her up without meeting her gaze. They walked into the hallway that led to the Comm Array proper. Isaac was turned toward them, his crying having settled into soft weeping. The circular door cycled while preparing to open, so they slowly approached the threshold while maintaining a bit of distance.

The damn thing retracted after what felt like an eternity. They entered without another word and floated to work. All the machinery here was deactivated, and the thick layer of metal composing the area did an excellent job soundproofing the chamber. The only noises permeating the heavy air were whirring thrusters and Isaac's weeping. He wanted to enjoy the silence, but even that was corrupted.

_You're going to die. You're going to fucking die, _his own personal ghost whispered to him.

All he could do for now was close his eyes, bite his tongue and get to work. That turned out a little different than he originally planned. Their original idea was to all work in tandem, but Isaac wouldn't get anywhere near Nicole, Curtis believed the rejection was mutual, and he was angry at them both. However, he played messenger between the two, ferrying messages between two disgruntled workers.

Watching a relationship crumble before his eyes made him feel even shittier than he already did. It didn't matter that they'd parted romantically. As he'd been learning, love meant more than sex or cuddles or anything like that. At its core, love was something like trust and respect – those foundations rapidly eroded between the two.

"Isaac, that dish looks solid." "'Nicole', I'll have to fix the wiring on that one." The dialogue stayed strictly professional, at least. He didn't have to be a divorce lawyer mediating alimony payment. What he _did _have to be was ever-alert. They couldn't afford to mess this up. They worked with sensitive equipment and had just enough of it to use. Any mistake handling it could seal their doom – and none of them possessed particularly gentle touches.

That would've been bad enough by itself, yet it ignored the Marker's influence. Isaac had lost his goddamn mind, completely deluded into believing the voice in his head was his girlfriend – then again, he had to admit her being a zombie wasn't the most logical thing in the world, either. If "Nicole" encouraged him to break something on the array, Curtis had little doubt the engineer would readily agree.

On the other hand, Curtis also was not immune. With "Nicole" resurging in his mind, he had to wonder how long it would be until he snapped himself. Probably wouldn't be _that _quickly, but he had to remain alert just in case.

So that was it. They were all crazy together feverishly working to hold this great machine with tape and bandages.

He snagged one of the panels with kinesis and dragged it into the slot while Isaac ran some kind of diagnostic scan before meeting up with Nicole to shove some debris out of the area. It wasn't fun, and the bleating in his head made it worse.

They were hungry. They were coming.

**18 Hours, 45 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Nicole surveyed the hollow before them through the smudged glass. Despite the floating junk and body parts, the dish superficially looked operable, though she had no idea how those aforementioned things or a thousand others might affect performance.

Installing everything in the correct order hadn't been fun. Hell, Curtis was so exhausted that he ended up putting one of the reflectors in _backward _before they fixed it. But it was finally done. Six dishes were arranged in a hexagon around the pole. All they needed to do was throw the final switch. But they had one thing left to do – call Kendra. That was one thing both she and Curtis agreed on. Elizabeth and Isaac weren't as interested.

Curtis made the call, painfully aware of the great force advancing its entrenchments. The holo-screen burst onto his chest, a flurry of black and white. A faint rattle was in the background, and Nicole's mouth clenched tight.

"Kendra?! Kendra, are you there?!" Snow. Static. Chaos. Life.

Then she was there, bloody and battered, fresh bruises on her cheeks but still standing. A smile played across her face.

"In the flesh." Curtis let out a small whoop, overwhelmed with relief and joy that someone was _alive. _Nicole's similar feelings were nevertheless duller. Not that she was upset, but "life" meant less to her than it used to. "I guess the Marker finally wised up, because it sent about 20 Necromorphs to kill me."

"H-how did you survive?"

"There were a few surplus hydrogen canisters in the shuttle. Put those into the hallway ahead of the force and jury-rigged a detonator out of a portable radio. Added a few sacks of scrap on top of them for good measure. They never stood a chance." Whipping up an IED with shrapnel and in a scant few minutes was impressive. He knew she was military, but damn. That was more initiative than the average marine showed.

Something still seemed off about it… but there was no time for that. They had only a few minutes to get their message out. No more time to waste dawdling.

"Are we ready to boot up the Array?" she butted in.

"Yes. It's simple enough if everything is set up. There's a big button. Push it. I can take care of the transmission itself from my end." Nicole looked around at grim faces and metal masks. They were finally going to do it. All approached the main console in front of the window. It looked mostly pristine, save one bloody handprint on flat metal.

It made her angry. Maybe life was overrated, but it should still have been a choice. That's what angered her. The Marker could have been a force for good if it only wanted to be! It could have offered genuine immortality, a sense of purpose and connection, true understanding. Everything the Unitologists believed was true, just twisted and corrupt. It didn't have to be that way, but the Marker was content to pillage and rape across the universe. She would never stop hating it.

She jabbed a claw into the conspicuous button, which softly clicked.

"If this works… well you might want to take a step back." None of them took that seriously for the first few seconds. Why? Then the ground began rumbling. At first, slowly; she thought it nothing more than another erratic engine firing. Then things picked up. Steady vibrations coursed through every cell, and each was profoundly discomforted. Elizabeth exuded the same shiver. Curtis and Isaac weren't nearly as affected because of their dense armor and basic physiologies.

The room before them began to spark, much to Nicole's shock. Arcs of electricity laced from the metal walls. They jumped to and between the six comm dishes, creating a chaotic ring of light and fury. The flashes put a shroud over her mind. She was mesmerized. So beautiful… and horrible. Mankind had shackled the electron and the graviton and the tachyon and bent them to their wills. The universe was theirs, as far as they knew. So much power in such untrustworthy hands. It made them barrel headlong into oblivion.

It was merely a question of whether they would end themselves before the Marker did.

The holo-screen on the console cropped up, fizzling with static. If she still breathed, it would have been bated as she waited for the smoke to clear. It slowly did, compiling into coherent shapes and segments of the Valor. It felt strange to see sleek military architecture, though not entirely unwelcome. Curtis was glad for it, too.

The last of the pixilation cleared, revealing the Valor's Bridge. It bustled with silent military activity. Odd. Most soldiers she'd met were loud and boisterous. That alone put her on edge, and the furtive way these armor-clad figures bustled from one point to another didn't help that assessment. They knew something bad happened – that much was obvious from circumstance – but whether that knowledge included the Marker remained to be seen.

She turned her attention to the person hailing them: a figure decked in the iconic alabaster armor of a military-grade RIG. She'd seen it innumerable times during her stint with the Merchant Marine and in thousands of propaganda advertisements, but never ceased thinking of the getup as mere cosplay, more form than function. There hadn't been open conflict since the Resource Wars, which were more skirmishes than official military action. Few flat-out invasion of planets; more guerilla action and bombings. Before that, it was the Secession War in the early 2300s. A few of her great-grandparents fought in that for the Sovereign Colonies.

And the battlefield was no place for fatigues the color of cream. Or "bone", because the gaunt faceplate resembled a skull.

Animate skeletons came to fight a different breed of undead. Though she held neither side in high regard, she had no qualms hoping the former would win.

"This is the USM Valor, widecasting on all frequencies to the USG Ishimura in response to your SOS," he began – or perhaps _she_, for the words were passed through a voice filter and rendered in deep, threatening monotone. A useful feature when attempting to subdue criminals like themselves. "You are in violation of Maritime Law Article 03-22. Order your PCSI forces to stand down. Cease all mining operations. Captain Benjamin Mathius is hereby under arrest; prepare him for extradition."

All of this was more or less what she expected to hear, and it brought her comfort. Even if they were going to be arrested or killed, these people were nothing if not predictable. That offered a sane reprieve in a time of nothing but unknowns and chaos. The devil you knew, right?

"Additionally, we will intercept your escape pod while en route to your position. This message will repeat every 30 seconds until you respond." Oh, it was prerecorded. That explained why the operator didn't freak out upon seeing her. Her only question was about the escape pod. That sounded familiar, but she couldn't place why.

"Escape pod?" Kendra mused, confused. Then she gasped. "Th-the one Hammond jettisoned. A Necromorph was in it!"

Oh no. No no no! Nicole shrieked and started tearing up the nearest wall in anguish. Her muscles were on fire from the sudden exertion, yet her mind was cold as ice. A Slasher might not have been a dangerous force to _them, _but it would be deadly to those unprepared and accustomed to aiming for the center of mass. They were dead.

"Y-you don't know that!" Curtis blurted out, already in tears. His mind was practically jelly, having been caved in by one tragedy too many. "Maybe they're still alive! Maybe they haven't picked up the pod yet. We don't know how old this is!" She refused to give him hope. It would have been cruel to.

Elizabeth stood in shock before her knees gave out. Isaac didn't fully understand what was happening, but everyone else being sad also upset _him, _so he only existed to make the scene even more depressing.

"USM Valor! Come in, Valor!" Kendra yelled at her screen over them. Seemed to be unsuccessful, for she kept screaming louder every few seconds, and their behavior didn't help. She mourned people she didn't know, and right after her whole "life was overrated" thing. She felt like a terrible person – maybe not worthy of the label "person", in fact.

"SHUT UP!"

The words bounced around the room for several seconds before fading, leaving them in silence. That was the loudest she'd heard anyone roar. It outdid Necromorphs in its ferocity. When she turned back to Curtis' screen, the woman was red in the face, sweating, disheveled and pissed. "The signal isn't strong enough," she got out while fighting her hardest to maintain an even keel. "I'll have to raise the array into space to boost it." She typed a few commands in while tears poured down her face. "All right. And maybe they haven't reached the pod yet."

"Errrrr_or_. _Blast __**door**_ bloxqxwsqage dettttttt_ttttt _– "

She slammed her head into the console, which made Nicole wince. They lacked a Bond, but she practically felt the impact regardless. This must have been bad for her. These people shared her former profession. But it might have been more than that, a possibility on full display from her despair. What if she _knew _people who were assigned to the Valor?! Her friends or family…

"Kendra, tell us what the problem is and how we can fix it." She glanced over. Though Curtis' face was hidden, his mind was again strong and vigorous. Such a resilient thing. He was a freak of nature in that sense. Most people gave up or surrendered. He never would, at least not for long. His will wasn't one of iron. It was something far more special: elastic. No matter how one bent it, it always returned to its original shape. She could claim credit for part of that with their Link, but a lot of it originated with him.

Kendra stopped bashing her head against the wall (a sight that made Elizabeth a little uncomfortable, considering they'd once found her doing the same thing).

"Please. If there's any chance we can stop them before they open it, we'll take it." He stared at Kendra expectantly, but the woman shook her head, having given up hope.

"He's right. We will." Nicole squatted down beside him. His words wormed their way into the sallow cracks of her psyche, and they made her ashamed of her nihilism as of late. Being dead altered her priorities, but his devotion to helping others reminded her of something. Long ago, she swore an oath. It originated with Hippocrates in ancient days, and though the body of the text had been altered many times along the way, the mandate remained the same.

She was beholden to protect life, no matter whose or what's. Now she realized "life" included more than just the living, but the principle remained. If people were in trouble – in danger of becoming Necromorphs when they didn't want to be – she needed to help. She had given up, but now she remembered she didn't have that luxury as a doctor.

"Agreed." Elizabeth stepped forward, and her consent was always admirable. She was also in-tune with life of a different sort, being a horticulturalist. Nicole wondered if their connection with life factored into both being able to break free from the Marker's interpretation of it. Then she turned to Isaac, who wasn't in much of a position to consent, but he was coming anyway.

Kendra blinked and rubbed the tears from her eyes, though more came. These weren't ones of sadness, though, but gratitude. She'd seen them many times from families of patients to whom she said, "they'll make it". Sniveling, she sat up.

"T-there's something on the hull of the ship directly, um, above you. Something very big and _organic_." Nicole suspected as much. Problems on the Ishimura could arise naturally, but Necromorphs had their hands and tentacles involved in most. "I don't know what it is, and I don't care. There's an ADS Cannon nearby. You know what to do." She hesitated for a moment. "And thank you. _All _of you." Her eyes went to Nicole and Elizabeth. "I'm sorry for what I said about you two. You're two of the most incredible people I know – and I barely know you!"

Oh, but she did. Like Curtis said, war made people know each other better than anything else. "I speak for both of us when I say we forgive you." And it was true. Nicole had been just as wrong about Kendra as she had been about them. A final farewell, and they hung up.

Before anyone said anything, she scampered back to the tunnel and stuck her head out. Several hundred minds reached out to throttle her own, with a roughly coequal number of tiny, glimmering eyes there to back them up. All the saccharine sweetness might all come to nothing. They still needed to get out.

_He stole you from us._

_None of them care for you._

_We will burn the universe._

_Perhaps it's not too late! Maybe the Red God will allow you to return to me – _us_! _This guy again? This was ridiculous.

Regardless, they were fucked. That was the most technical terminology she could apply, especially because she didn't want to imagine what her "biggest fan" would do if she got caught (though she didn't need to, for he beamed his horrid thoughts directly into her). Morbid jokes aside, there was no way for them to survive. Their one way out was blockaded by angry monsters. They failed Kendra before even beginning. "We're trapped."

"Maybe not," Curtis said, scratching his metal chin with a metal hand, so it clearly wasn't to soothe an itch. She saw his synapses light up, trying to form ideas when bone-tired and starving, but not yet to what end.

"How do you figure?" Elizabeth interjected.

"You talked about Jacob and the work he did here. It reminds me of working in mining areas." His hand came down. "Like this place, they're usually near the edge of a ship. Hard to get out of when there's an emergency." She began to see his point. Not a bad idea, though she wasn't onboard. This also wasn't the place to be a choosing beggar, so she kept listening. "There's usually an escape hatch around. I know this place is a deathtrap, but surely the CEC put in something!"

Looking around was better than surrendering, especially for her. She couldn't imagine the pain and humiliation she'd endure if her "family" got their hands on her – but _they _sure could. That impelled her to begin poking around if she lacked reason enough. In corners and around the small command center, she scrambled to locate anything tangentially resembling a latch or door.

Elizabeth and even Isaac got in on the action, the former using her blades and toe claws to crawl on the ceiling to look around there. The latter didn't really do anything besides twitch his head around, but she appreciated the effort. The Marker nearly paralyzed him. After everything they'd been through and everything he'd said to her, Nicole knew deep down that it wasn't his fault. No human mind could withstand the onslaught of psychic hatred. Curtis was the exception to the rule, and even he broke down piece by piece.

_I hope I get to see you again, Isaac. The real you. _She shook her head and continued searching, but every corner came up empty. All the while, war drums. Her "family" was on the warpath. Their song was malice, an angry dirge, and their standard was pain. The imminent end of her "life" was a celebration. And they accelerated by the second. No longer holding back, the horde marched to glory.

They were a few hundred feet away when the whole area had been searched. Nothing. Everyone reacted in very different ways to this. She didn't think Isaac fully comprehended what happened around him, which Nicole considered a blessing. At least he wouldn't be scared while being ripped apart. Elizabeth fully accepted it while being upset that none of the others would get out.

Nicole was devastated by their failure. She'd never get to try anything new or be with Curtis. More than anything, she wanted to live. It wouldn't be much of a life with her being dead, but she still wanted it! How ironic. She never cared much for the finer points existence when she was alive, spending most of her time at work. _Good _work, saving people, but still. That's what she lived for. And now she wanted more. Funny how people always wanted what they couldn't have. That also applied to the dead.

Curtis, however, was in livid disbelief. His mind was a mush of everything she didn't want to see. Not now. Fears old and new boiled to the surface, sublimated, and new ones took their place. Her ghost didn't need to torment him. Circumstance did enough on its own. Elizabeth put a blade-arm around him to offer the most basic sense of comfort, and Nicole tried to soothe him. _We did the best we could. _He had none of it.

"Really?!" he screamed. His voice cracked, spilling his guts across the rug. "This is how it ends?! There's _nothing?!_" His final word was punctuated by a leap into the air, reminding her of a child throwing a temper tantrum. Not that she thought him immature – there was no reason to have a semi-rational response to death. Being a Necromorph messed her up in that sense, as well. She had a self-preservation instinct, but it was bound in concrete motives (wanting to save the universe and do good things) rather than biology.

He landed askew, slipping on the rug and landing on his butt. She immediately knew he wasn't injured, but embarrassment was suddenly on the list of emotions he'd feel right before dying. The force of the impact reverberated through the metal beneath the upholstery. It kept ringing. Took several seconds before the echoes petered out. Huh. Almost sounded like –

Curtis was on his knees before she processed the thought.

"Your claws!" he barked, digging through one of his pockets for a knife. "Help me rip up this carpet!" It clicked, and she rushed over as the other two watched them lose their minds. Nicole felt like a maniac, digging away at dirty fabric during the last few moments of her all-too-brief stint as a zombie. The battalion's vanguard reached the "station" now, piling atop each other to escape the pit. The clap of wet, bloody bodies flopping together was fresh in her ears, sounding like an orgy.

Her cherished claws were dulled when they breached the matting and scraped upward to clear the rest. Elizabeth understood by now and began desperately helping. _Come on come on come on._ A presence she hadn't detected in the psychic mire but which she fully expected also hauled its way from the pack.

_You meet your end, traitor! _the Graverobber roared, pulling herself onto the platform. Nicole locked gazes with a string of primary eyes above her massive maw. _DIE!_

"Got it!" Curtis exclaimed, and her head whipped around. An escape hatch under the rug. The echoing of his pratfall hinted at a hollow space beneath them. So many insane things happened over the past hours, yet she never saw "saved by something from a bad comedy" coming. "Go!"

Elizabeth leapt onto Isaac, giving him a bearhug with her meaty scythes. He thrashed and screamed about how she wanted to kill him, but the woman was stronger. She jumped down the vertical shaft, and Nicole braced herself for the sickening crunch that followed. Had to break both her legs for Isaac to survive.

By this point, the Marker realized what happened. And it lost its shit. Psychic screams flooded every Necromorph cell on the Ishimura with pure thought energy – and not pleasant ones. The Graverobber charged down the pike, an army at her back. Her remaining scythe swung wildly, slamming into the walls as it reached for its true targets.

_ **WHY WON'T YOU DIE?!** _

Nicole held Curtis as both of them fell down the shaft; no time for a ladder. They hung in blackness for a second, freefalling. Her "sister" reached them too late. She could have mowed them down if a second faster.

_We won't die because you can't kill us. How does it feel, being made to murder and yet so bad at it? _The response nearly knocked her out. A stake drove through Nicole's eye socket, overloading her nervous system. They survived because Curtis caught a rung with his good arm, the one that hadn't been cleaved through not too long ago. The sudden stop jolted her awake, and both of them clamored down. Elizabeth still cocooned around Isaac to keep him from hurting himself.

_Oh, you're here, _she smugly said, having been shorn of all her limbs by an irate engineer. _Please get him off me. _Curtis did so while Nicole glanced up. The Graverobber had her head stuck in the hole, whipping dozens of tongues which couldn't quite reach them.

_Soon. Soon you will be mine to end! Prepare yourself! _she hissed. For all her hatred, Nicole couldn't respond. She used to be just like this. Yes, they were evil. Yes, Nicole now didn't have issues killing them in self-defense. But she wouldn't antagonize them, family or not. That's where she drew the line.

_I will._

Her curt reply took the Graverobber aback, and her maw contorted in a hideous grimace. She withdrew without another thought… allowing smaller brethren down the hole. Hundreds of them. Elizabeth finished regrowing her arms and legs just as that happened. Still hauling Isaac with them, they fled into the unknown with the wrath of a thousand souls hot on their heels.

**19 Hours Post-Outbreak**

_I can't believe we're doing this, _Curtis thought.

_Less thinking, more walking, _Nicole shot back. _And it was _your _idea. _Well, yeah.

He'd noticed that they became more antagonistic to each other as the hours dragged along behind them in the organic muck. A little strange; he expected they'd be closer now than ever before with how many times they saved themselves by the skin of their teeth. They needed a rest so badly, but the stresses kept piling up and no respite came. Not before, and certainly not _now_. Space wasn't a good place to nap unless one wanted to sleep forever. It'd be one Hell of a view to nod off to.

The great void yawned above them; cavalcades of shooting stars painted the sky. That's what happened when silent mortar shots propelled by ADS cannons exploded things barely visible to the naked eye. The metal beneath them gently shook as they plodded along, coddling him back to a few minutes prior.

They had bumbled through the service tunnel, picking off Necromorphs behind them, but the tight bottleneck fortunately reduced the danger to a straight single file line. A few shots from his Line Gun killed dozens of them. With nowhere to dodge, superheated plasma bolts decimated their enemies, so Elizabeth was free to grapple Isaac forward.

The tunnel ended at an airlock; not the ideal route for a mentally ill person to take, but no alternatives existed. That's why they now strode across the hull toward that ADS mortar. His map told him it was near. Whether close enough to reach on five minutes of air (now four) was a different matter, one he didn't have the luxury of questioning. He took a shallow sigh to preserve oxygen and turned his attention outward.

Before them was a hole from the asteroid shelling that rocked the ship hours earlier. Shouldn't have been shocking, but this was the longest spacewalk he'd taken since then, and he'd never seen such a puncture from outside the ship. Pretty big, so they had to go around, unfortunately. Took seconds, but they needed every one of those they could get.

He threw a backward glance before looking down the blue hole. The color came from the crosshatched, cobalt sealant grid, which held tight. Several more apertures were visible through it, each ragged edge sparking. The Ishimura bled electric blood. He empathized. They'd been through a lot together.

_You're OK, right? _Nicole asked, unnerved by him thinking of a space vessel as alive._ Relatively speaking? _Her eyes migrated to him, holding more concern than yellow dots should have been able to. She still cared for him despite recent outbursts.

_Yeah. Thank you for asking. _She couldn't see the smile on his face, so he let the one in his mind shine bright – though both dimmed when he spied his HUD's oxygen display. A little more than three minutes left! _And thanks for helping out back there. We'd all be dead without your help._

_Oh, come on. _She lightly slugged him in the arm, mouth approximating a smile. _It's a team effort. We all chip in. _Another two words then echoes in her mind, deeper than she wanted him to hear. _Except Isaac…_

Curtis shivered and kept walking, yet he couldn't stop gravitating to the engineer after that. They made sure to put him at the front where they could keep a close eye on him – wouldn't want him to "accidentally" fly away into space while chasing illusory butterflies. Elizabeth was right behind him, which also helped.

They surmounted a bulge in the hull, exiting their metal canyon and standing on the rim of a plateau. Curtis softly gasped at the sight; it was pleasantly surreal, the first good dream he'd had in ages. They stood at the stern of the whole structure, and high enough to overlook all the rest.

Difficult to put the shape into words. He'd seen it from the outside many times in photos, vids and now in person. The figure morphed completely now that he was atop it. The best parallel he could draw was to the skeleton of a long-extinct whale he often stared at in the Hubs' history museum. It was long, baleful and flanked with long spines like ribs that went above and below the profile. Its silhouette could be picked out by any person in the galaxy.

The rim of Aegis VII rose around it, mostly the tint of an orange atmosphere with wispy clouds. Most impressive was space itself. The stars appeared out in force – worlds without end. _Except plenty of them _have _ended. _He recalled what Nicole thought when their Bond began to coalesce.

_Dead space._

That's why they'd never found aliens. The Necromorphs killed them all first. At the very least, some species must have built the Markers, and they weren't around anymore. This train of thought rolled around his head a hundred times, but it never got less horrific. If a people powerful enough to raise the dead and possibly millions of others were exterminated, what chance did his pitiful species have?

A light tap and a comforting thought-blanket from Nicole got him moving again. Elizabeth and Isaac already marched across the mesa to their destination: a small tower jutting from the surrounding superstructure. Bursts of light spat from it every few seconds, muzzle flashes of explosives accelerated to a fraction of the speed of light. Manning one wasn't fun, but there was an upside this time. They'd kill a giant Necromorph.

_Do you sense it? _he asked.

Nicole closed her eyes, and what little flesh remained on her face quivered. Metal and meat clouded her third eye's (well, _fifth _eye's, as she had four regular ones) vision, yet she pointed right. _It's over there_. The hull curved down to create a drop-off, so he couldn't spot it. _And Kendra was right. It's _really _big. _Leviathan _big_.

His heart sank when he heard that word. He hardly expected a cakewalk, but that battle had been the hardest of his life. Didn't know if he had the spirit for another one.

They continued. Two minutes of air left, and Isaac likely had less; he now grappled with Elizabeth, who could thankfully take a punch. However, she quickly lost patience with the man, who struck her with blow after blow, convinced she was some fiend straight from Hell. Curtis wanted to be patient with the man, who was civil and quite kind when in his right mind, but this was ridiculous. While he had no agency over his condition, it was miraculous his actions hadn't gotten them all killed.

_You think we should leave him? _she asked, indignant.

Damn it. He gritted his teeth and sighed. The displays and numbers compressed him from all sides. This was the biggest problem with their Link. It was an incredible ability, and it saved them many times, but they lacked a way to "turn it off". They might never be able to! Necromorphs' connection to each other seemed like a constant trait; even outside the Marker's greater sphere of influence, Nicole possessed a great deal of awareness of them.

Their thoughts, unless tightly suppressed, would never be hidden from each other. The good… the bad. The ugly. The despicable and fleeting ones that hounded the best of them – and Curtis _was not_ the best of them.

_I didn't mean it that way. _He wanted to explain, but there was no good way to do it. How could he justify something like that? _I just thought… well, we could let him be more independent. He doesn't want to be with us, anyway. _He realized this was a less than convincing argument, and Nicole let him have it.

_You're disgusting, _she spat – literally. The bloody saliva evaporated before reaching his visor, but the message was crystal clear. _I will _never _give up on him. _She stormed off, claws angrily digging into the metal as she did. Curtis hung back, ashamed of himself.

_Hey, Black Marker? Do you have any advice about Nicole? _It felt stupid and weird to ask his patron, the immortal wizard rock, for advice about this. It was also Nicole's… uncle? She called the Red Marker "father" and the Black Marker said it was his "brother". Of course, those could easily be figurative terms. So maybe "god-uncle"? For once, he was glad to be an orphan. It meant he didn't have to deal with stuff like this.

_ **I DO NOT. I AM NOT WHAT YOU WOULD CALL A "PEOPLE PERSON".** _

Curtis figured as much. Still, he hoped counseling would be one of its many hidden talents. He twitched as his brain spasmed. The lights inside his helmet blinded him; colored spots swarmed him like gnats. Doing this hurt like Hell. Human minds weren't meant to interface with others, so connecting to something so far beyond him agonized. He had to ask one more thing, though.

_If we actually do this – if we win – can you protect her? _That had been at the back of his mind for a long time, and it grew closer as the end of the line approached. In a few hours, either they or the Marker would be dead. If the latter, Nicole would also perish. His only hope was that the Black Marker knew some solution he didn't.

_ **I… WILL TRY.** _

That was all he asked for. The bubble in his brain popped, and he suddenly found himself in a very different place. He must have been on autopilot during the conversation, for he walked across a steppe riddled with calderas from more asteroid impacts. Between that and the flat, gray ground, it looked like the surface of Luna without dome cities.

A minute of air and almost there; an airlock was set into the side of the tower. That's what it said on the map, but it was another thing to look directly at it. Isaac seemed to have passed out, for Nicole carried him along, rubbing his weightless head along the way. Heat rose in Curtis' gut. He knew she didn't love him like that anymore. These were merely friendly actions. But combined with her blowing him off, he couldn't help jealousy.

He shook his head, staring at holes in the floor. Nearly jumped into infinity when he noticed Elizabeth walking beside him. She looked at him knowingly, though they of course couldn't speak in the vacuum. It was nice somebody knew what he went through, though.

30 seconds. This was the final stretch. Maybe 100 feet left. Nicole was already there, having Isaac slumped against the door while she tried to get it open. _I should hurry. _This happened to be the most marred area he'd seen. The place was Swiss cheese. That struck him as odd. Shouldn't places closest to ADS cannons have the fewest impacts? That was a mere curiosity, but then something else came to his attention.

_The rims of hull impacts curve down. _That was common sense. If something hit and entered a ship, metal arced inward from the push. These were the opposite, shoved _up _at the edge. They'd only be like that if something made them from the inside. _You're overreacting. If these were made by Necromorphs coming out, that must have been hours ago. There're none around._

That thought placated him for a moment – until Elizabeth put an arm in front of him. 20 seconds – not the time! Her nostrils twitched as she tried to sniff the void, which of course fell flat. The Marker knew where they traveled, but surely there wasn't… time… to… follow…

His brain slowed as figures emerged from the holes like hornets from a hive. Only then did Curtis realize they were well and truly fucked. He screamed into his helm for an audience of one. Dozens of them, with more on the way, blitzed with arms raised skyward. Necromorphs charged from every direction, silent in the night. It was the spitting image of _Rancid Moon _– the last scene when the characters were about to be slaughtered.

Good thing he'd seen it, because he knew how the main couple escaped.

He wrapped an arm around Elizabeth and leapt up a moment before the ghouls reached them. Some threw themselves up and away into the void; he tried not to look as he boosted forward with 15 seconds of air, straight down to 10 as the thrusters ate his supply. Even more emerged onto the hull, and more chipped holes outward. He swerved down and hit the deck with no air left. Just the nitrogen/argon mixture, which would be enough to get him to the airlock. Elizabeth probably would have carried him, except she didn't have fingers!

They limped forward together while his mind blackened like the void. It allowed his demons in, and they tried mightily to restrain him with word and deed. All the pieces of his broken mind were there, puppeted by invisible strings. Phantom claws tore at his flesh. The Shadow Man whispered to him, wanting to end his suffering so it no longer existed, either. "Nicole" was by far the most prominent, of course. Certainly the loudest.

_You don't deserve to live after what you thought about Isaac!_ she screamed at him. _You're a horrible person! _Maybe that was an exaggeration, but he didn't feel like he was "good", either. That didn't matter now, though. Good or bad, he had to help people, and engaging with these figments wasn't going to help.

_Don't ignore me! I'm _real, _whether you want me to be or not. _She reached through his helmet to put a bloody hand on his throat. He felt it plain as day. Soon, it might have enough influence over his endocrine system or something to kill him from the inside. He looked at her face, translucent like a ghost's. Through it, he saw the real Nicole. Another thing to fight for.

_I know you're real, and I'm not ignoring you. _He shoved past her. _But I have to help people. Nothing you do will change that. _She growled at him before fading, but she'd be back. Always came back. He turned around and nearly shat himself when he saw them galloping forward. The lack of gravity barely impeded them; they merely charged on all fours (the ones that had four limbs, anyway) like wolves. They'd fall upon the duo in seconds.

_Come on! _Nicole shouted, reaching out a claw from the airlock. Nevertheless, her other hand hovered over the hologram. She couldn't hide that she was about to push it. That knowledge gave him a bigger dose of energy than adrenaline ever could have. He grabbed Elizabeth's torso and literally threw her through the door before leaping in.

…

Nicole's taut muscles finally snapped when Curtis zoomed through the airlock. Thankfully, this door closed faster than most. A few of her kith made it half through when it happened, resulting in the lot being doused in gore. They waited for a moment in uncanny silence. They couldn't scream in space, and the door was thick enough to seriously dull the knocking. It should have been tough enough to keep them out for a few minutes. Hopefully that would be all they needed.

_Curtis? Are you all right? _she asked, tapping the side of his helmet with a claw. He groaned, and she helped him up, wrapping a hand around his shoulder. He wasn't grateful.

_You weren't going to leave him behind?! _he mentally barked at would have said it aloud if Isaac wasn't around. Something within him growled. _What about me, huh?!_

He wanted to tell him he was overreacting and to get over it, but she couldn't. Everything she'd criticized him for – callousness and cruelty… she'd done the same thing. There was a moment when she considered closing the door before he and Elizabeth got there. Had to make sure Isaac was safe. She couldn't control what popped into her head. _That was wrong of me. It just… I wasn't going to act on it! _That's what she told herself. Maybe it was true. They wouldn't know unless something similar happened again. _I'm sorry._

Curtis' breathing slowed, and he shook his head. _Yeah. I'm sorry about thinking what I did about Isaac. _Not much of an apology from either of them, but they didn't have time to pour their hearts out. That could happen later if they were in the mood.

She surveyed the room they found themselves thrust into. Virtually identical to its cousin, with dull metal and spare shells laying around. This one also had some Trixie's candy wrappers and a sealed can of SUN, so somebody must have been there. No dust accumulated, so it was impossible to guess when. Might be years old. The window shutter was sealed, but Nicole sensed the presence behind it. While not as large as the Leviathan, its mind was still vast, easily the second largest they'd encountered. And this one had real intelligence to it, being made of people instead of animal and plant stock.

It probed her mind, but it didn't respond. It watched and waited, the shore of a sea before her. That was almost worse, for a storm brewed over the water.

They had not a second to lose, not even to call Kendra. That could happen after they'd wiped the floor with this thing. Each would man one half of the double-barrel gun that sat in front of them, wilted like an old flower. But this time, they were on shaky ground. She didn't know what would happen if they didn't trust one another. Having your life in another's hands was nerve-wrenching, but they'd only survive that way. At least for a few minutes, and hopefully longer.

_I agree, _Curtis said, taking off the mask. He didn't look too much worse for wear, but he was already pretty close to the bottom last time she saw him. Purple face, bloodshot eyes, a couple of teeth missing. _Any uglier and I'd be a Necromorph._

"Calm down, both of you." Elizabeth flat-out smacked her in the head with her blade (lightly and with a blunt part, of course) and the same to Curtis. They got the message. "You're angry, I get it. This isn't the time!" Yeah, yeah. She shook her head and got on her half of the cannon… unable to resist getting the last word in.

_That's supposed to be a good thing, right? _she muttered. _You think I'm hot stuff? Oh, I'm sure you'll be far more attractive. _Curtis threw up his hands and switched the thing from automatic to manual, which rolled away the curtains. Suddenly, immaturity was the least of their problems.

Atop the Comms Array was a sessile blob of flesh, formless, almost liquid. The only appendages were stubby legs that kept it clamped to the edge of the dish. Those were the only defining characteristics. It looked like a giant slug. _"Slug" – I think it's good._

Curtis had other thoughts. His eyes went wide, and his mouth fell open. _That's the Spider! I thought I killed it, but it must have attached itself to the hull! _His mind filled with images of a massive, fanged mouth, an impaled hand.

A dead friend. This was what killed Nathan, though constant vacuum exposure sculpted its flesh. It terrified him. It also made him crave revenge. She heartily agreed. Cracking her neck, she delivered the opening salvo to their audience. Well, Isaac was pretty much zonked out, thankfully, but Elizabeth was happy to hang back and cheer them on. _I never understand how that woman is so with-it._

The volatile orbs went straight into the creature's flank, exploding with pale flashes through the entrance wounds. She didn't expect much, but the result was practically nothing. No pain or significant reaction. Powerful though the detonations were, they were meant to be used against rocks instead of giant monsters, for they lacked an oxidizer that could catch fire in space. Explosive force alone wouldn't suffice against something so elastic.

What the barrage _did _succeed in was making the Slug/Spider notice them. It turned slightly, and she saw the resemblance more. It was indeed the creature from Curtis' memories, distended and addled with solar radiation. Not enough to "kill" it again, but pustules and tumors writhed on the segments that faced the twin suns.

_Curtis, _she whispered as the beast's mind unfolded like origami. Wanted to apologize… but she also didn't. She acquiesced enough. Ball was in his court. _Let's just make this quick._

Her friend fired, as well, but the high explosives pelting it might as well have been spitballs. They did so little damage it was embarrassing. There were no limbs to go for, so it was nearly impossible to hurt the blob, now rousing.

_You again… _Even in its coma, it somehow recognized Curtis through the glass. Might have been the RIG he wore, his mannerisms or some mechanism she couldn't imagine. _Oh, and _you. A gestalt mass of attention zoomed from him to her, and she was suddenly trapped in a bubble, barely able to move her limbs. All she could do was stare as the fat form inspected her like the piece of meat became. _I may be a hanger-on at the back, but even I have heard tell of your exploits. I would not have believed could I not see them in my mind's eye. _Elizabeth wilted at the cerebral power being pumped into both of them. Curtis tried to shake her from it, but it was no use.

_But none of that matters now. All legends end, as yours is about to. _The calm, collected manner in which it "spoke" sent a shiver down her spine. _Convergence awaits._

With that, it threw its head back and expelled a mighty roar in the background. There was obviously no sound, but the thrumming in its belly shook their chair, and bits of phlegm flew from its throat into space.

Five tentacles flew from a gap in its back: the hole from the explosives that Curtis shot down its mouth way back when. Not nearly as vulnerable to such things in its current state. Each snaked toward debris on the hull, coiling around them. It raised them skyward, ready to pummel them into dust. There was a silver lining, however – they now had something to dismember. Both sides lobbed their projectiles, beginning a Necromorph artillery war.

The Slug whipped all five of its tendrils forward, leasing a barrage of random junk. _Fuck._

Both of them each picked off two of the mortars, reducing them to ash, but the fifth smacked the glass and shattered. The room shook, and the little holographic gauge for hull integrity dropped from 100 percent to 90. Unlike the last one, which displayed the overall health of the whole ship, this one was tuned to this particular room. It had the potential to dip much faster.

She was too scared to think straight as they each continued bombarding. She attempted to shoot the detritus out of the sky while Curtis aimed for conspicuous pus-filled pustules on the limbs. Neither had great success. The Slug, despite its name, had swift reflexes for its arms, and two of the things got through – 70 percent. Long cracks began to form on the windshield, knitting together in latticework. Elizabeth became less optimistic and more desperate in her cheering.

Nicole twitched and was ready to scream. She tried to reach out to Curtis, and he reciprocated, but their minds didn't fit as well as they usually did. The two were on different planes of thought when they normally existed on the same wavelength. It was like trying to jam two incongruous pieces of a puzzle together.

They shifted to thoroughly focus on defense to lick their wounds, but that was a temporary fix. Having run out of loose rubble, the Slug began to dig up parts of the frame to lob at them. That would break the Array! Other Necromorphs doubtlessly hammered away at the airlock. Though tougher than most of the ship, it wouldn't last long once heavy hitters like Brutes or the Graverobber showed up.

They needed to get back in sync or they were going to die. Waves of twisted steel bore down, getting closer and closer each time. She knew what she needed to do, as did he. Pride was just a bitch to get over for both of them. They were competitive people.

_I'm sorry, all right?! _Curtis was the first to blink, though that wasn't much of a surrender. She was right about to before he chimed in. _I shouldn't have been so callous about Isaac, let alone envious! That was petty of me._

_And I'm sorry for wanting to lock you and Elizabeth out. _She should have known better about refocusing on her oath just minutes earlier… but it wasn't anyone's fault. They couldn't control what the other thought, nor should they have. Actions and words spoke louder than the figments that swam beneath dark mirrors. They had no right to judge one another, especially after hours of being tainted by the Marker. This was far easier with a proper hive mind. Thousands of voices instead of two killed individuality far more.

They shifted their attention back to the giant monster without further ado, back on the same level. Something in the psychosomatic winds must have shifted, for Elizabeth was back to being their biggest fan. Now it was a matter of earning that praise.

They began by pushing back the barrages. Two minds computed aim and trajectory at once, things their professions made them very good at. While not anywhere in the ballpark of an AI when it came to this, it gave them a chance to make their next move. Curtis' idea, but she thought it was genius.

_Ready? _he asked.

_More than ever. _They started with the leftmost arm. Curtis fired in an arc from left to right, while Nicole worked vice versa. Like a pair of scissors, they moved to snip the arm. For the first time, the Slug yielded a hint of concern. It was stuck. And soon, it was in pain. The two strings of bullets converged, blasting the thing off. Squirming, it listlessly drifted away. Came at a cost, though; two more projectiles struck the screen, which expanded the cracks and sent atmosphere leaking out. 50 percent.

That was their strategy, and it got easier with each arm sliced. Not only did they establish a rhythm, but the Slug became weaker. Fewer appendages to attack with, and less mass meant less intelligence. More anger. More lucky shots got through, though; 40 percent, 30 percent. Sinews the size of small spaceships drifted away one after another. Curtis' and Nicole's minds weaved together more with each passing moment. They drew strength from one another.

More bullets, more bombs, and the last limb fell, blasted into space. She stole a glance at the readout – 10 percent. Only then did she slump back in her seat, exhausted in both body and mind. She barely saw through the window with how destroyed it was. A loud hiss penetrated the room as massive amounts of air were vented. The thing would collapse with a strong shove. Curtis looked at her, drowning in the same enervation.

The Slug entered its death rattle. Pasty folds of flesh gyrated against metal dry as bone, before the legs came loose. Only managed one final thought as its mouth flailed and tentacle stubs waved at them: _You will never win._

_I think we just did. _Its mind shut down before it could answer, leaving a gaping hole in her perception. That's what happened when such a powerful being died. Even though she had no love for it, there was still a sense of loss. Her world was emptier for it, horrible world though it may have been.

_If it's any consolation, you have me_. Curtis put a hand on her thigh and gave it a gentle rub. She knew he wanted to come off as friendly, but given their relationship, it felt distinctly sexual. He immediately withdrew. Blood doubtlessly rushed to his face, but she couldn't tell given how much gore coated the skin. Mining was a physical, carnal job, and combined with him being sexually experienced, it always made her giggle to see his romantically ineptitude.

_That means a lot, _she thought while gingerly moving the hand back to her leg. Suddenly, the blood went from his face to somewhere_ else. _He stood with rickety legs to call Kendra. For her part, she gave the Slug one last look. It floated away, the imprint of the dish clear on its belly. Off to be sucked in by the planet, another casualty of a gravity – an appetite hungrier than the Marker's.

_That was incredible! _Elizabeth exclaimed as things settled down. _I can't believe you two took it down! _Neither could she. The surprise never faded. For all her bravado, death lived around every corner, and the odds bent toward the Marker. So what if they survived 95 percent? It only took one nudge to send the house of cards tumbling down.

That's when Nicole locked eyes with Isaac. His helmet was off, revealing the face of the man she used to love (and still did, in a way) – changed. Not bloody and beaten like Curtis, but in the expression it wore. His eyes were steely like the metal they walked upon. His jaw was wound tight, looking almost ready to break. It was the face of a man no longer himself, and Nicole suddenly wished he'd go back to babbling. She wanted him to say something.

Anything.

_I'll fix you, Isaac, _she thought, unable to imagine what that would even take. _I don't know how, but I will. _She would have done more, but Curtis succeeded in recontacting Kendra, so that's where her attention turned.

"USM Valor, my name is Kendra Daniels from the USG Kellion!" she barked over the radio, desperately trying to hail the ship. Her face was as stoic as it could be given the situation. "Do not pick up that escape pod! I repeat, _do not pick it up!_"

The answer was a barrage of broken static fragments, falling like ash and snow. Looked like the window, actually. What remained of her stomach tightened. It would be easy to discount the threat a single Slasher posed to marines, but they didn't know how to take it down. And, frankly, the soldiers she'd served with barely saw combat. Lots of chest-thumping but no real conflicts. "Respond, goddamn it!"

And, miraculously, it happened. A final glimmer, and the pixels compressed into a coherent whole. The sights and sounds made Nicole wish they didn't.

Kendra's sweating face was supplanted by the same view of the Valor's bridge from the initial recording. The ground and walls were awash in blood. Roars blared so loudly that the feedback warped the already cracked camera's image. Curtis vomited a little, and she would have if she had the requisite organs. There was no time to process the shock.

"H-hello?" Her eyes shot open and affixed to a marine, his arctic armor blazoned with blood. Possibly the same one who sent the looped message. He (or maybe she) slumped in the chair before staring through the camera.

"You've killed us," he growled, mask almost contorting in agony. "You've killed us all." Curtis was crushed. He'd felt like that before, but Nicole knew this was something else entirely.

Her attention was torn by something skulking in the background. It was far away, having just crept around a corner. The blood-stained, cracked camera obscured it enough to where she couldn't tell if it was human. The way it moved answered that question immediately. No human travelled by jerking across a room, about to tear every muscle out of their bodies. Fast. Very fast. Nicole would have called it inhuman, but that was redundant for anything sprinting across a room in less than a second. Also would've been hypocritical.

The thing practically punched her through the holo-screen, for its speed was the wind. Nothing more than a blur as it vibrated, seeming to tear holes in space as it practically teleported in bursts while approaching its prey. A collagen corona surrounded a dark central figure, almost the spitting image of the Shadow Man Curtis saw. Nicole herself beamed awe and terror. Anything swifter than a Stalker commanded respect.

"Look out!"

The marine spun around with his weapon aloft, but he wasn't quick enough. The Necromorph's blade flew through his skull faster than Nicole perceived… but the man appeared fine. No visible damage. Maybe the thing missed? Or perhaps it was particularly stupid. He stood for a second while the audience watched. To her puzzlement, the thing darted away to join its brethren in continuing the massacre. The guy just stood there a second, legs quivering.

Curtis was about to speak when the top of his cranium sloughed off. Just slid away, revealing his brain right before he dropped out of sight. The feed couldn't be killed quick enough. _Killed._

"Why did they have to open the pod?" Kendra softly wept. Curtis was on the ground, and his fears crippled her in conjunction with her own. She felt like utter shit. Not that she expected any of them to survive, but it ached to see it happen while unable to stop it. And now everyone was dead or crying. Except Isaac. He didn't really care.

Raising her tear-soaked face, Kendra prepared to address them when something in the background caught her attention. Her eyes compressed as she peered through the camera on Curtis' RIG to the almost fractured window.

"Oh my God. It's headed right for us!" What? Nicole turned and looked out the great glass window, trying to pinpoint what she talked about. "Get the fuck out of there! Go on, run!"

"What are you – " Then she saw it, and her mandibles flew open.

The Valor sped forward, explosions riveting the flanks as it careened through space. Right for the Ishimura. By then, though, it was too late. She could only brace for impact.

Then, darkness.

**19 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

"I wish I could just talk to someone…"

Curtis was roused from a black hole of nightmares by Nicole's voice. Something was wrong, though. He couldn't feel her mind. His eyes fluttered open, images of the Shadow Man and the ghostly Nicole fading away as he did.

"It's all fallen apart here. I can't believe what's happening."

He moaned and sat up. The room was a mess. Thin streams of smoke leaked from busted wires, and a piece of the ceiling had fallen in the middle, which thankfully avoided crushing anyone. The window also remained intact with 5 percent integrity. _Nicole? Where are you? _Nothing came. For the first time in hours (though they felt like years), he couldn't feel her mind. Though he wished for that very thing not long before, he was now scared.

Either she was knocked out or dead… but she also spoke? How was that possible?!

He looked around, quickly spotting Isaac with his back to him. His holo-screen played footage of Nicole, which explained things. It was the clip of her right before she died. "It's strange… such a little thing."

"Watch it until the end this time," Curtis said, which made Isaac turn around. His face was as blank as a whiteboard. The man needed to see it, though. Her death might snap him out of Marker-based dementia.

"In the end, it all comes down to – " He flipped the thing off.

"I don't need to." Curtis put his head in his hands. Whatever. It didn't matter what delusions he was under. They just needed to keep everyone alive. Another mind began to slowly prickle at his, which made him leap up. A shape squirmed under a small pile of rubble, so he went over and helped her out of it.

_Are you OK?_

_I don't think so, _she grunted in pain, or whatever sufficed for Necromorphs.A shiver went through both of them upon realizing one of her limbs might have been severed! _Thank you, though. _Elizabeth rolled out from beneath a sheet of metal, but he didn't bother to check on her. If she wasn't already all right, she would be in a minute. But this scared him. They reattached her leg before, but it hadn't been completely amputated!

"You're not hurt, are you, Isaac?" he added as almost an afterthought. No response. "Isaac?" he repeated, looking toward where he'd been a few moments ago.

Where he now wasn't.

The only things he saw were oily boot prints leading to a door opposite the airlock, and a shape quickly darting down the hall. Fuck!

"Isaac!" Nicole screamed, leaping to her feet. "Isaac, get back here!" She tried to sprint after him, only to trip and fall on her face. Not easy to run when your right leg was missing.

She didn't care, merely trying to scrape her way forward with her arms. Curtis rushed forward to stop her. "You're going to get yourself killed, Nicole!" he exclaimed, feeling his heart pounding in his skull. His girlfriend barely cared.

"I'm already dead. Now move!"

"I'm not going to let you die again!" He shook his head. "I know this looks bad with what I thought earlier, but you being killed won't fix anything!" In a rage, she raised one of her arms to threateningly bare her claws. He didn't look into her mind to see if she meant it. That would have been cheating. "Would a sane Isaac have wanted you to die?"

She twitched and stared at him with her four yellow eyes, filled with anguish. He met her gaze, knowing that he had enough to match. Slowly, she lowered her head and began to weep. No tears came. She wasn't meant to cry. That was OK, though. He did it for her.

"Damn you," she whispered. Elizabeth came over to try and comfort her, but Nicole was heartbroken. This was more than words could fix. All he could do was stand there and ponder how it all went wrong. Things changed when a static face forced his holo-screen open again.

At first, he thought it was Kendra, and he prepared to politely ask her to go away for a minute, but the voice that spoke was clearly a man's.

"Is anyone there? Hello?" Nicole leapt to her feet, thinking it to be Isaac. Then the cloud cleared, revealing someone entirely unexpected: Hammond! "Oh, thank God you're all right," he said, looking like crap. He looked like a supermodel in Hydroponics compared to this. "I've been trying to reach you, but someone's been blocking my RIG signal remotely. The crash must have interrupted the signal jamming." Well, he couldn't complain about the man being alive, but it jarred him after what just happened. They finally found out who'd been eavesdropping on them.

Of course, that raised the question of who was _jamming _signals.

"Hammond?! Where have you been?" Curtis asked, and Nicole again fell limp with disappointment. She needed to rest so badly. He prayed Elizabeth could give her more comfort as another Necromorph than he could as a human.

"Surviving – barely. I found some medical supplies after I left Hydroponics and patched myself up best I could." He held his head in his hands for a moment before looking up again, eyes filled with regret. "Just… fuck the CEC and fuck the chain of command. I'm resigning the second I get back." Not that it changed anything, but Curtis was glad that Hammond had a change of heart about listening to authority after they sent him to his death. "Kendra, we still need a shockpoint drive for the Executive Shuttle, right?"

"I haven't been able to find any that are compatible. There's nothing on the ship."

"Not on _this _ship." He _walked_ over to a nearby window, cracked dangerously from the impact, and angled the camera out of it. It took a few moments for the static to clear, but Curtis was surprised by the sight when it did. The tail end of the Valor jutted from the side of the Ishimura. Somehow, it survived the crash relatively intact! These things must have been even sturdier than he realized. Hammond's plan became visible even to his addled mind. Nicole's, too, but she was in no condition to form an opinion about it.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Kendra said. "It's an unknown environment with new kinds of Necromorphs, angry marines and, if I'm reading this correctly, _massive _amounts of radiation leakage."

"Noted, Ms. Daniels – Kendra. But I don't see any other choice." Curtis agreed. It sounded intimidating, but that could be said for everything else they'd done. "I'm heading there now to find a way inside. I'll meet you there. Hammond out."

The screen switched back to Kendra, but nothing else changed. Nicole cried. Curtis shook. Elizabeth did what she could. The stars whirled out the window, their points of light multiplied endless by the cracked expanse of glass. Time marched onward.

"I hate to say it, but he's right," Kendra interjected at last. "This is the only chance we have. Look out for him. In his condition, he may not last long." She blinked as she thought to look down at Nicole. "Oh my God. Is she dead? What happened to her leg? And where's Isaac?!"

"No, she's not dead," Curtis said as he went back to the pile of detritus she crawled from. "And her leg is right… here." With a grunt, he pulled out the appendage, which limply flopped around. The cross-section of tissue was interlaced with muscle that squirmed around despite not being attached to its owner. "As for Isaac… he ran off." He tried to explain things as best he could, but it was naturally clumsy. Words never formed correctly in his mouth.

"That sucks," she said so flatly it almost made him laugh. "There's nothing we can do about it now, though. We just got Hammond back." She squinted, and her face took a more concerned quality. "Please don't make me worry about you, too." They didn't say anything for a little too long. "Anyway, the ship crashed into the Ore Storage Deck. That's where you need to go." She signed off again, leaving them alone. Nicole finally picked herself up, leaking blood instead of tears and sorrow just as thick.

He gave her a hug on the ground. That was the best he could do.

"I know there's nothing I can do," she said, "I just wish there was!" Dark fluid dripped onto his shoulders. "What'll I do?!"

"You'll help Hammond," Elizabeth said, stepping forward. "He needs you to survive. So does Isaac, though – so I'll go after him instead." Nicole was stunned; her mind didn't process anything for a moment. The woman was a friend, but to do that… her affection suddenly shifted from him to her, as did her arms. Curtis felt his grimace turn to a small smile as he saw friendship among the dead.

They separated after a few moments, and Nicole seemed almost renewed. She still lacked a leg, but that could be mended in time. Relationships, too, as he learned, but those were probably trickier. As they prepared to separate, he took a last look out the window at everything out there. He didn't know what to think of it.

"I don't know how we can get back into contact, but I'll do my best to find you once I get to Isaac," Elizabeth said. "I might go straight to the shuttle. I'll have to see."

"That's good," Nicole replied as he picked her up over his back, holding her leg like a precious treasure. She wasn't too heavy with him in his RIG, especially with the mass of an entire limb not a factor. "Do what you can." _Man, this is embarrassing, _she added to him. _Some fierce hunter, huh?_

_Oh, you're absolutely terrifying, _he said, actually meaning it. _This kind of makes you scarier._

_Thank you. _Clinging to him, she rested her head on his shoulder, drifting into the Necromorph equivalent of sleep. She was already tired, and the loss of part of her mind and soul made her even more so.

"Take care of her. You have something special," Elizabeth whispered before jogging away to search for the engineer. He wistfully stared at them before striking out toward Ore Storage.

He didn't know what the future held, but he was happy for the moment. There was so much to be afraid of, but he had her. That lulled him into shallow rest as he walked along, as ready as he'd ever be.


	25. Onslaught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Thanks for joining me again. I'm deep into my final semester of college, trying to find jobs and prep for finals in "these uncertain times". It's not fun, and I kind of wish I took more advantage of school while I had the chance, but what can you do? At this point, I just hope I can get a job I don't hate. That's the reason it took me so long to write this – I've been getting ready for graduation and dealing with looming finals, plus it's really long.
> 
> I've also been cooking up new story ideas. I still won't write anything of substance until this and my FNaF series are done, but it's fun to dream about what to do next. Even if it takes years, I'm always looking for new ideas and writing them down, maybe brainstorming very rough drafts when I feel like it. I just want you guys to know that my brain is still cranking along.
> 
> In terms of chapter substance, I tried to integrate a couple more elements of the Alien mythos into this one. Yeah, this is a stealth crossover with Alien, in case you forgot. It's only been alluded to with a few references to Weyland-Yutani, but I sprinkle in some more here. Also, this is now the longest thing I have ever written. I still can't believe it.
> 
> Thanks to ACCELERATOR7460, RABIDPANZER, JASONVUK, CELFWRDDERWYDD and a kind GUEST (and all you AO3 peeps) for reviewing since the previous update. Especially Celf, since he's the one helping me with all the Alien lore. I'm glad you all like it and that you enjoy what little remains. There're only four chapters left after this one. I hope you'll all join me for the rest of the story!

**20 Hours, 15 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Curtis slumped back in his seat as the tram hissed along. Would have been splayed across the gore-drenched fabric except for one small detail: he no longer wanted to sleep.

Exhaustion tugged at neural strings, trying to get his conscious mind to unravel. Drooping eyelids warped the world. If he fell asleep, it would be far worse. Nicole could protect him by filtering the nightmares like a sieve, but he didn't want to inflict those things on her.

There was more to it, however. He needed to be back on his feet in minutes opposed to the hours he would have slumbered. Curtis didn't know if he'd have the mental fortitude to will himself up again. Overall, things would be worse if he took the draught of sleep. So he stayed awake with Nicole, watching the world rush toward them. He bit his lip.

Kendra radioed earlier to inform them the Valor's crash damaged some segments of the ship worse than others. Nothing catastrophic, but the tram system got among the worst of it. Which was why the front part of the car itself had been sheared straight off, allowing them to look out at the tunnel ahead.

Not much to see. More darkness stretched as far as he or Nicole could see, broken by tiny lights and gray fog that wafted in. The vehicle moved at a crawl, but it was still faster than walking. He'd normally be terrified that Necromorphs would jump in and attack, but Nicole assured him that wouldn't be an issue.

The crash killed a number of Necromorphs and sent the rest scrambling to regroup. She felt the confusion and fear they shared despite the distance: a rank aura of dread amid zealotry. Their foes had bigger issues to worry about than hunting. The only downside was the number that died from the impact would be replaced by the new "forces" aboard the Valor. All things considered, though, it was miraculous that things turned out so well.

_It's not a miracle, _Nicole argued, idling on the floor while staring wistfully out. _The Ishimura's a mountain of a ship, and we've been smart. There doesn't have to be divine intervention._

Perhaps not. The Black Marker was powerful enough to psychically communicate with him from across the galaxy, but that didn't mean it altered probability to make them get perpetually lucky. Beyond that, he wasn't prepared to postulate. _It was mostly a figure of speech._

_Fair enough. _She rolled onto her side to get a better look at him, though they didn't need face-to-face contact to communicate. She just enjoyed looking at him, and the feeling was mutual._ Thank you for calming me down earlier. _Right, when he convinced her not to go after Isaac. _I hate to say it, but I'm better off being here._

_No, thank you for coming in the first place. _She didn't need to do this. Going after Isaac would have been a noble thing to do. _I just wish this were a bad dream. _He'd made that wish a hundred times before, and nothing happened except mockery from the void. There were a couple upsides, such as the woman staring back at him, but those were few and far between.

_It's not, though. It's a bad _reality. _One we have to fix. _She made it sound so easy, and maybe it was for her. She dedicated her life to repairing people, and her boyfriend gave himself to fixing machines. Meanwhile, Curtis broke things, up to and including a planet.

They hit a bump on the track, followed by a low moan, which made him shiver. He was glad to not be able to see into the night like she could. His eyes moved across it, reminding him of the future he faced. Like the darkness, it barreled toward them with abandon, and they never knew what waited just around the corner. _What are we going to do? _he asked Nicole. It was time they talked about this, if only for a moment. _How do we face the future?_

Nicole scooted closer before pulling herself into the seat beside him. _Let's just say we succeed. We destroy the Marker and get out of Aegis, but I don't die. _A taller order than he would have liked once she put it into words. _I'll be declared dead as soon as the news breaks, so I'd have to seize my assets as soon as we get back. Everything was supposed to go to Isaac if I died, but…_

Curtis wrapped a couple of fingers around her much larger claw, which quieted both their minds a little. Physical contact had a wondrous way of calming human beings down – even in death, it seemed. _You should give at least some of it to him. I'm not trying to be greedy._

_I know, and I appreciate that, _she replied. _What about you? You have a place. I don't think living in the Alberta Hubs would suit me anymore. _She let out a raspy chuckle.

_Yeah, an apartment on Titan Station. _Opening his mind, he presented fragments to her – synthetic meat sizzling on the grill, the tight spaces, and especially the view of Saturn. She'd "seen" it before, yet it still delighted Nicole. Wouldn't have appealed much for most people (except the last), yet he understood why the Sprawl piqued Necromorph psychology. Planets were too large and open. He didn't see how they could be easily converted to undeath. Sealed space environments, though, suited her species perfectly.

Corridors and ducts made superb hiding places, while mechanical failures presented a greater threat to squishy humans. Ironic that Necromorphs fared better in man-made vessels than planets with biospheres. Of course, that was merely an assumption. They might have had tricks he couldn't imagine to terraform worlds into balls of angry meat, but Nicole couldn't recall any. Any recollection of planetary conquest had been buried deep within the hive mind by time, the purview of whatever controlled the Markers.

A twinge of melancholy bowed Nicole's head. His stomach churned like a Slasher's blade had been jammed into it. _Curtis, being this way – being dead – has made me realize something. I mean, I already thought it, but now I know for sure. _She looked at him, eyes full of sympathy. _Humanity is doomed._

He sighed and leaned back more, his spine pressing into the fabric so every jolt controlled him. It didn't take a genius to see his species wasn't doing so hot. People weren't happy; some, like him, flocked to Unitology, while others drowned themselves in drugs. Poverty was rampant – he was one of the relative few who clawed his way into something not-quite abject with the strength of his arms, but he still lived paycheck to paycheck. Corporations drove it forward, always needing more, more, more. Whole planets couldn't satiate them.

None of this came as a revelation, though EarthGov claimed the opposite of all these things in omnipresent propaganda. Other people knew it, too, but nothing could be done. He figured it was only a matter of time before it all collapsed, but that was almost worse. The devil you knew, right? Well, now a very real devil came for his species, and the thing was, he suspected a lot of people would want it to. You didn't have to be a Unitologist to want to burn down the system, and plenty of people desired exactly that. Some people would willingly become Necromorphs to do that, he suspected.

At this point, the question was whether the Necromorphs or humans themselves would do mankind in first.

_What's the point, then? _he asked. _Why should we be together if that's how it's going to end? _Might have been defeatist thinking, but he didn't want the only good thing in his life to be torn away from him. She was quiet for a moment before answering.

_We deserve to be happy. As far as I can tell, we give that to each other. _Yeah, they did. He just didn't want to lose her. It would be devastating if that happened now, when they'd only known each other for a few days. What if they lived together for months or years before shit hit the fan? Still, he knew she was right. At the very least, he was curious about how this would turn out. At most, he was madly in love with her. Both these options compelled him to agree.

_I guess we do. _She smiled both within and without before placing her hands on the sides of his head. His heart beat faster as her throat thrummed in a soft churr: a content predator. He still had no idea why this turned him on, but it did something fierce. Maybe part of it was because he'd never met anyone so confident in who she was. Nicole obviously had difficulties with this new form, yet she was still mostly glad to be one. He found that incredible.

_Do you want to make me happy right now? _His dick jammed uncomfortably against the RIG's padded interior, and he started sweating. He wanted to fuck her, and she knew it. Unfortunately, they didn't have the time nor the energy; the tram already skidded to a slow, screeching halt as the underside scraped against the bottom of the tunnel with the maglev components failing. _A kiss is good enough._

That, he was onboard with! He leaned in to begin the rather arduous process of fitting their faces together. Mostly her having to move her mouthparts around while not biting off his nose or tongue. They eventually got it, which led to her happily laying atop him on their little bench. He was lost in bliss as she shared her physical sensations with his, which kind of resulted in a feedback loop, like kissing her a thousand times over.

By this point, he caught on that she wasn't into the physical parts of a relationship anymore, be that sex or kissing or anything else. Not in the cards for Necromorphs. She played along because he was into this sort of thing. That didn't mean she lied about her feelings. They were as real as his, just differently constructed. Her love was more platonic than sexual, and that was fine. _But what about that creepy fanboy she has?_

They pulled into Ore Storage a few seconds later, a sputtering of syllables announcing their arrival. He was almost certain they'd get stopped or ambushed or worse, but they made it! His knees knocked together from exhaustion as he stood, hobbling to the door and looking out. **ORE STORAGE **was indeed printed onto the metal in massive, blocky letters, but it still seemed nearly a dream. Not like they'd had particularly pleasant experiences with the deck.

Their first visit was to clear radioactive debris when they first met. He recalled their hostility. Never could've imagined how their relationship would develop. The second was when they found Kyne with the Marker. He still remembered the headache from approaching it; that would not be fun to replicate.

He shook his head to clear thoughts and ghosts. None of this mattered. They had to find Hammond and get the shockpoint drive. Only then could they worry about the final step – getting the Marker and figuring out a way to destroy it. Nicole smoothed over some of his more pressing concerns as they stepped onto the deck, him assisting her as she hobbled forward with only one leg. The tram sped away, creaking and whooping in the dark.

Curtis listened to it whistle away before ringing up Hammond while Nicole perched on the lip of the tunnel. She looked like an organic gargoyle, ever alert for danger. Nobody could be a better protector. Hammond answered a few seconds later, though his face and voice were distorted by the jamming signals trying to keep them apart.

"Curtis? Nicole?" he asked suspiciously, likely trying to make sure it was really them and not a hallucination. The static smokescreen separated a second later, putting those fears to rest. "Good, you made it!"

"Yeah, we're all right," he replied, trying to tell where Hammond was, for the architecture didn't resemble the industrial Ishimura. Looked sleeker and more modern. That's the aesthetic he expected from a military vessel, though he'd never been on one. "What about you?"

The soldier panned his camera around to give him a look, though the lag made everything a blue-gray smear. The view returned to Hammond, who was uncharacteristically jittery. The guy looked like he'd drank a six-pack of SUN with how twitchy he was. Curtis worried this was a sign of impending madness. "Are you OK?" he asked, not knowing what answer he wanted.

"Not after what I found." The hollow, tight tone made Curtis tense. "It was the munitions log," he continued, already straining. "They're not equipped to take on pirates or Magpies or terrorists or whoever might want to attack a Planet Cracker! They're armed to the teeth with WMDs – no EarthGov ship has had this many nukes and antimatter bombs on it since the Secession War!" The image and sound dissolved as he spoke, making him yell as loudly as he dared to get his message through, sounding like a mad prophet. "Do you understand what I'm saying?! This is a search-and-destroy mission! This ship is prepped for _war_!"

That was the last thing Curtis heard before the signal died, leaving digital dust on the screen. A shiver started in his legs, slowly crawling up his body until everything shook. Nicole tried to calm him, but it was no use. At least he finally knew.

EarthGov, at least a part of it, must have been aware of the Marker. There was no other reason for them to be outfitted with such heavy artillery. How and when they acquired this information paled in comparison with the simple fact they _did_. That also meant they knew about its spawn. If this really was a prelude to war with the Necromorphs, they needed to get out more than ever!

The only thing that gave him a modicum of comfort was Hammond specifying that their mission was "search-and-destroy". Perhaps EarthGov had the sense to annihilate the Marker instead of exploiting it like he thought they would. Then again, it was possible it meant the _Ishimura _was to be destroyed after having the Marker and all its data being taken.

_I'm ready whenever you are, _Nicole thought to him. Grim determination filled him, and they probed deeper into the deck.

**20 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Nicole sniffed the air and extended her mind, trying to find elements of her "siblings". Couldn't pick out much. The walls were rife with Corruption, but that went without saying. Other than that, she found little evidence of post-life around. Made sense. As they'd established, the Ishimura had hundreds (maybe thousands) of miles of tunnels crisscrossing the thing. Necromorphs usually clustered together, at least somewhat, so the gaps between these dwellings were miles of desert where neither living nor dead trod.

The Marker also didn't need to bother with sending forces after them since they approached a brand-new "village". Their destination came with fresh drones of phenotypes they'd never encountered, per the vid-log they'd seen. Gave its forces time to regroup.

These thoughts made her miss a beat. She tripped while hopping along and faceplanted onto cold steel with a wet _plap_. Her four eyes rolled around for a moment like marbles to see straight.

_Are you OK?! _She nodded and brushed aside his hand while picking herself up. Felt a pang of guilt for not accepting the gesture, but it wouldn't do for him to piggyback her around. There might still have been Necromorphs around despite her fruitless search, and the last thing Nicole wanted was Curtis getting gutted because he carried her instead of his Line Gun.

They kept going, and the walls mocked her for her clumsiness. All in her mind. There was a whole world she experienced that Curtis couldn't except for the small glimpses she gave him. Fortunately, he didn't miss many pleasant things. Not when this other world was perpetually pissed at them. That went for all senses.

Even as an expert in biology, she never realized how disproportionately humans depended on sight and sound. Those were still important to Necromorphs, but her senses were more balanced. Her nose picked out subtle hints of chemical stains. Her tongue, unused though it often was, became more sensitive to taste – she could identify everything Curtis ate in the prior day when they kissed. Touch had been enhanced the most; every cell in her body now housed a fragment of her mind and soul, if such a thing existed.

All of that was dampened with her leg severed. Those tiny pieces of her mind added up, and she was now sluggish in both thought and deed. It wasn't dissimilar from when Curtis lost a pint of blood to the Hunter.

She'd even unlocked the fabled "sixth sense" of extrasensory perception. Only quacks and Unitologists believed in that, but she had it, and it was baked into her biology! Curtis was the only human alive who shared in this gift. That had to count for something. _Except Lexine._

It had honestly been so long that the woman had slipped her mind. Hadn't seen them since being dead. It was a literal lifetime ago. Regardless, the woman also had psychic potential. Mystery to her and probably everyone else. Maybe it took the Marker's presence to activate it? If she ever saw the woman again, she'd very much like to do some tests on her. Just wouldn't frame it that way because, well, it'd be really creepy.

She mostly continued to think about random stuff for a minute, if only to evade the thought persistently dogging her through it all: Isaac. The time would soon come to obsess over him. The thing that mostly delayed it was coming to their destination – kind of.

An airlock was set into the wall ahead, its holographic seal flashing blue between bouts of fading away. This was around the place they'd gone to upon hearing irradiated ores slowly poisoned the Ishimura. A danger to both of them, they teamed up. Without that bonding experience, both would probably be dead.

Now, though, it was the Valor's final resting place. Curtis' map pointed right to it, but she didn't need a hologram to tell. There'd obviously been a massive impact with how the metal buckled and warped here. Parts of the walls scrunched together; a shockwave frozen in time.

Curtis called Kendra, who fizzled onto the screen. Speaking of "fizzled", she sipped a can of SUN while staring at the monitor. And man, she looked awful. They all did at this point, so perhaps it went without saying. All the humans decayed in mind and body, becoming more traditional ghouls than even Necromorphs aspired to be.

"Isaac, Nicole, there's a problem," she said, to absolutely zero surprise from either of them. They'd been coasting for a few minutes, which meant some curveball had to be lobbed their way. Nicole was used to it by now, but that didn't make it less frustrating. "Several of the Valor's guns were destroyed during the crash. A lot of them use nuclear components. Guess what happens when they rip open." What a coincidence. After clearing radioactive debris from the room hours earlier, the same thing happened again with live nuclear ordinance. Now she was glad they hadn't opened the door on accident and let all that out.

"The good news is that the vacuum should remove them before they do lasting harm. The bad news is that you don't have time to wait. You'll need to find another way onto the Valor."

That might not have been so bad. Going through a large zero-gravity area would immediately place targets on their backs. By finding an alternate route, they'd avoid radiation poisoning (which would destroy Curtis' innards and not be kind to her own cells) and her kith in one fell swoop. All that hinged on was finding a spot on the hull for them to enter.

"All right. We'll do that," he said with a nod. Then he paused. "Have you heard anything from Hammond?" Kendra sighed and shook her head.

"Last I heard, he was aboard. Haven't gotten much else. That might not even be from the radio jamming. It'd be hard to get a signal out with all the radiation swirling around in there." As she said this, the screen, which until then had been fine, began to distort. "Be safe, guys. Try to – "

Then she was gone. Back to being on their own. Then again, that was more or less always the case. Curtis stood still for a moment before approaching the door.

"Curtis? We aren't going that way."

"I know. I just want to see the view." She supposed it was harmless. The airlock being open for a few seconds wouldn't hurt him, and it'd be nice to see what they were up against. He turned back and placed his hand in the center. The circular threshold performed its usual pattern of rotations before pulling into the wall.

Gamma rays threw themselves against her cells, attempting to wreck her recombinated DNA in the process, but the strands of nucleic acid were strong and flexible enough to hold out for a few minutes. Thanks to her nature, it could put itself back together far more easily than a human's, but that didn't mean it was invincible.

They dropped down and crawled closer. As she remembered, the floor curved away a few steps past the door, melding into the walls ringing this massive cargo sanctum. That was about the only thing that remained the same. The chamber (and others that flanked it) used to simply be a really big room with compressed "eggs" of ore floating around and occasionally clumping together because of their significant gravity wells.

Now it was something out of a nightmare – for a human, anyway. She thought it wondrous, but Curtis emitted a field of fear. Didn't blame him. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and she had twice as many as him.

The place became a vacuum; the impact tore a massive hole in the Ishimura's port side. Most of the Valor's own mass now plugged that entrance, but there was enough open space between the two hulls that the atmosphere leaked quickly. Hadn't completely drained the place yet on account of it being so big, and a strong wind whipped past them, buffeting the side of her face with small grains of metal that cracked off the bigger chunks. A chromium sandstorm.

Also on the move from this gale were large metal spheres, riddled with fissures and stamped on all sides with the nuclear trefoil. Lucky none of them detonated on impact, but she didn't expect them to. Sheer force wouldn't set them off, just make them spew radiation. Not like the Marker had any idea how to use it, anyway.

Corruption grew in groves along all surfaces, though it quickly wilted and died. Some of those weird Nest things, too. After many minutes of exposure, their cells finally failed, mutating and reproducing in a desperate attempt to stay "alive". Structures rose and fell from the seething goop, making it a boiling gelatinous ocean. She cringed from the internal burning the unliving walls experienced.

It begged her to help, and she turned away. Nothing she could do for a superorganism thousands of feet long and wide… but would she have assisted if possible? She didn't want to think about it, so she turned her attention to the most important aspect of the room.

The Valor's hull occupied a massive portion of the promenade. The Ishimura was the largest spaceship humanity had ever built, but the Valor was no slouch. It spanned the room, which was a mile wide by itself, and the bow punctured the adjacent chamber. Hell, the Ishimura wasn't _that _wide (at least compared to its length), so it was possible the Valor's prow punched all the way through, emerging somewhere on the Flight Deck. She imagined a bird penetrated by an arrow, falling to Earth with both ends of the shaft protruding.

In typical fashion, **USM VALOR **was printed in text multiple stories high on its starboard flank, festooned with cannons, airlocks and so on. Really, the aspect that drew her attention was the vessel's crest. It was primarily a shade of orange eerily similar to Aegis VII's atmosphere and shaped like a head-on view of the Valor itself. A few creative flourishes also made it resemble a Lung dragon, a common motif in the East Asian Sector. Bolstering this was a Hanzi character beneath. It meant… sky? Heaven? Something like that – linguistics was one of the many things she'd been drilled on as a kid but never really stuck. Either way, it was appropriate.

In fact, seeing its emblem again stirred some recollection deep within her. She dredged their dripping carcasses into her awareness. Yeah, she'd heard it mentioned in the Merchant Marine a few times. Many soldiers expressed a desire to be assigned to it one day, which she took as a sign that it had a prestigious history. Maybe they'd learn more once they boarded, for her cells began to feel the heat. _Ready now?_

_Yes. _Both of them turned around and slunk back the way they came. The door swirled shut, and she immediately felt relief as her cells knitted themselves back together. The ones within weren't so lucky, and she tried to shut them out. Curtis gave her a reassuring pat as they began their quest for an entrance again.

Fortunately, observing the Valor proved useful for more than a pretty view. Knowing where exactly its hull touched the Ishimura's walls was their ticket in. _We should go to higher subdecks, _she told Curtis. _It was angled upward, so it might have gone through a couple of cross-sections. _Now all she could think of was cutting up blocks of human flesh for pathologists to run biopsies on. Ugh, this made her head spin…

They kept going for a little while, worming their way upward whenever possible. The metal buckled from impact shock, which made travelling easier in some places and harder in others, depending on how the warping altered vents or collapsed intermittent staircases. They didn't say to each other, for they were lost in their own worlds.

Hers was Isaac. She had no idea if Elizabeth could find him. Even if she did, how would they get in contact? Telepathy only reached so far, and comms were so bad she doubted Isaac's RIG-Link would help. He was alone and helpless, clawing through a world and a people that wanted him dead. All the while, he was led by Nicole's own shadow, a siren compelling him onward toward some inscrutable purpose.

She was so swallowed by this miserable pit that it took a long time to feel Curtis gently "knocking" on her mind, asking if it was acceptable to enter her brain space. Superfluous, but she appreciated the rapport it brought.

_We'll find him. _She waited expectantly for the follow-up sentence, yet none came. _Oh, that's it. I don't have an inspiring speech to give or anything. I just wanted you to know that we _will.

_How can you be sure?_

His adjusted his grip on her dismembered leg as he thought about it, which galvanized it into spasming. Actually quite a mystery, with gears in his mind interlocking to construct an answer. _Would the Marker miss a chance to make you suffer?_

Nicole sighed when she realized that might actually have been the plan. It wanted her to suffer; even now, she felt it practically breathing down her neck. Of course, it also wanted to destroy her. To keep Isaac alive to drive her toward doom or kill him to break her spirit? That was the horrible question.

They shimmied up one final damaged cargo lift, and they were suddenly a dozen feet from the Valor blocking the hall. Perfect! The one downside was that this segment lacked an airlock or fissure to enter through, but that didn't matter. They could make their own entrance.

Curtis gingerly placed her leg on the floor while she braced herself against the wall. Jumping there on one leg took a lot out of her, though she got her second wind much quicker than a human. Still wasn't fun. Her boyfriend kicked the steel and listened to the reverberations. His mind drew connections between the sound and that of ore-rich rocks. He knew metal and stone better than anyone: their compositions, their melting points… and how to break them.

_Nicole?_ She hobbled over, scooping up her limb on the way.

_Yes? _He knocked on the alloy for dramatic effect.

_We're breaking in. _A small chill of excitement passed through her. Vids were more Curtis' thing, but she was still genre savvy. They'd been through action and horror aplenty, but heist? This was new, and it tickled her with its novelty and relative lack of violence. She didn't _want _to kill the others, even after everything they'd done to her. Much better to sneak in, grab the thing, and sneak back out.

But the first step was ripping the hull a new one. Only question was how they'd do it.

_How about this? _Nicole fielded. _You make some preliminary incisions, and I'll finish the job. _Curtis had only a few Line Racks left in his pockets, which he needed to save in case something went wrong (which it probably would). And despite her wiriness, she was strong. Might not be easy to saw through the side of a ship, yet her cells told her she could.

_Sounds good to me. _Curtis took five big steps backward and rolled his shoulders – he immediately regretted tweaking the one that had been stabbed through. "Fuck!" She winced along with him. After a few more curses, he pulled the Line Gun from his spine and carefully aimed his shots.

It wasn't something she could explain, yet she understood it perfectly as a doctor. The human body was an open book to her. Some people studied one particular thing for so long it became part of them. Almost literally in Curtis' case; the advanced RIG he wore was largely synthetic, but it had enough metal to make him a tin man.

Bursts of thunder and lightning split the air as blue bolts leapt from the muzzle and smashed into the wall. She blinked during the four staccato discharges. When she opened them again, a nearly perfect square burned yellow on the hull as drops of molten lead ran down. Forget miner; the man could've been a sharpshooter with hands so steady. _I've killed more things today than these military types have in their whole careers. _Probably true. She unfortunately expected that kill count to rise dramatically before their task was done.

Well, now it was her turn to raise some Hell. She stumbled over and dipped a claw into rapidly-cooling iron. A bit of it hardened against the bone, and she chuckled a little when she realized the smidge that solidified was kind of like getting her nails done. She'd never cared for makeup or its ilk at all, but the thought of her doing such things _now _never ceased to amuse. Coating her giant claws with hardened steel or titanium would be the most metal mani-pedi ever, in more ways than one.

Amusing as that all was, she really needed to work on crafting their entrance. She tossed all that junk out of the way and refocused her attention. A quick inspection didn't make it out to be too hard. Now that the residual plasmatic burns stopped glowing, she saw Curtis' cuts quite keen. These were deep wounds, easy to exploit. Reminded her of surgery.

_Operating on a ship, huh? _she mused. Now she had a better grasp on why Curtis sometimes spoke of the ship as though it were alive. Beyond all the Corruption infusing it with a sentience, it had a more complex presence. Anything so old and storied had a way of coming to life, she supposed.

She swiped at the channels Curtis carved, expanding them under her own power. If she still sweated, she's been soaked as a wet dog. Every blow chipped more of the wall away and slowly wore down her claws. Dulling her immaculate weapons was painful, but they could be sharpened later once she found a suitable whetstone.

Despite that hiccup, progress was steady. She slowly wore through the thick paneling until, at last, it began to give way. Points of light shone through tiny apertures from the structure failing. Neither heard any hisses nor detected any minds, so it was safe to say no Necromorphs lurked in the area beyond. Once almost through, she rolled onto her back and started kicking away with her left leg. Curtis reclined beside her, and the two hammered with all their might. The warbling sound echoed down the hall.

This wasn't the kind of banging one might expect from a boyfriend and girlfriend, but it was actually more satisfying. Got to unleash their anger in a productive way by kicking clean through a wall! She imagined laying into the Marker, punting it hard enough to shatter. Dr. Warwick may have disapproved, but going to town on this did wonders for her state of mind for a few minutes. She was almost disappointed when they broke through.

The slab squealed as artificial gravity overcame tensile forces connecting it to the hull. It fell to the ground with a dull thud instead of a bellowing clatter, thankfully. She propped herself on her elbows and peered in. The hole was just large enough for them to both crawl through at the same time. They obviously could have progressed one after the other, but it seemed appropriate for them to enter this new environment together.

Curtis grabbed her leg, and they looked at each other. He was ready. They'd waited so long that it wasn't a question. Therefore, they both shimmied into the Valor. When they did, she suddenly fell – upward! She let out a yelp, though it was luckily only a few feet. _W-what? _she groggily thought as her body combobulated to the new environs.

_What was that? _Curtis echoed. She didn't know until she looked out the gap. The floor outside was above them! They were on the ceiling! Curtis became lightheaded, which complemented her own confusion. At first, she was at a loss to explain, but then the answer dawned on her. Normally would've been obvious, but the loss of a limb stunted her intellect.

The Valor crashed into the Ishimura upside-down from their previous perspective, so the gravity panels pulled in a different direction. Knowledge didn't stop the vertigo of seeing their previous space topsy-turvy. Should've accounted for that before drilling in, but no harm done. _This is weird, _her boyfriend thought, and she turned away from the hole to avoid distraction.

Took a moment for her eyes to adjust; this place was even darker than the Ishimura. The primary light sources were small fires burning across the room. Some flammable liquid, she wasn't sure what, had its containers destroyed. Made sense, for they were in a small lab. Not a medical one, sadly; looked more like chemistry or physics, at least from the equipment that hadn't been annihilated.

Only the construction was notable, as over Hammond's video. Far sleeker than the Ishimura, in line with most ships and space stations she'd been on. Not the trimmest thing in the universe, yet far more streamlined than the hulking, brutalist Ishimura. Planet Crackers were always outliers in design, but it felt like an eternity since she'd been aboard anything else.

Nary a speck of Corruption; too early for that, for which Curtis was grateful. It'd start winding its tendrils through the ship soon. Not much else to say. She was relieved to find affairs more put-together than expected. What happened here was still tragic, but she expected the unspeakable to smack them in the face moments after entry.

She was about to suggest they call Hammond until something distracted her. A distinct skittering sound came from outside, followed by a low thrum. It was getting closer. She and Curtis looked at each other before throwing themselves behind the nearest desk.

_Don't think, _she thought, which kind of defeated the purpose. No Corruption around meant nothing shielded her mind from that of others. All she could do was clamp it down and hope the thing didn't notice. Curtis agreed. They weren't helpless, but being discovered so early would blow their cover. Therefore, she slipped into her boyfriend's brain for a temporary refuge. She saw through his eyes and heard through his ears. The Bond transcended her total understanding, yet she never questioned its beauty.

He peeked over the rim, hands gripping the table so tightly that the metal crumpled. His ears weren't as sensitive as her own, but they didn't need to be. This new force got louder in the last few seconds. Must have been fast. Wasn't until it entered that she understood how much she minimized.

Curtis blinked, and it was there, standing in a doorway perhaps 20 feet away. Backlit by fire, it appeared to burn with how it shook and jittered, seeming to phase in and out of reality. Had to be an illusion unless the Marker also figured out a way to make Necromorphs walk through walls, though that was too farfetched for her to believe.

It paused for a second, revealing a humanoid silhouette, and it made a sound like someone motorboating his or her lips. Just… stood there. Thinking, probably, in its own small, petty way. She didn't dare probe to learn what it imagined. Luckily, it wasn't a problem much longer. Not for them, anyway.

Gunfire and screams came from far away, sending the creature packing to assist in ripping whatever humans remained to shreds. A few more blasts and shrieks rattled his ears before suddenly going silent. Nicole slipped back into her body, and she was suddenly wracked by shivers. Her id was terrified, slipping into unconscious tremors the instant she "left".

_Let's get out of here, _Curtis "whispered", and she didn't argue! They slipped out of a door farther back and into the hallway. Had to duck under parts of the ceiling that had collapsed into flaming rubble. She scanned for other minds all the while, and there were many. The good news was that their forms were, nascent, fresh. Maybe they weren't completely attuned to their new abilities yet. Perhaps they couldn't "see" her back?

_Wishful thinking. _She shook her head and returned to the task at hand: finding a place to catch their breath. After skulking for a minute, Curtis located a closet they ducked into. Barely big enough for two people, but it beat being exposed! The instant the door closed, he called Hammond. _Work, _she silently commanded the device strapped to his chest. Static and a loud hiss sprang up, making Nicole wince and Curtis ratchet down the volume. Hammond appeared shortly thereafter, and the resolution was better now that they were nearby.

"Good, you're alive," Curtis sighed. "How are you, Hammond?"

"Better than most people around here," he muttered. The scar on his face seemed to flare up from the crackling screen. Nicole thought she might have even seen tears, but the video quality wasn't good enough to be sure. "Could be better, though. You?"

"About the same," Nicole chimed in. Sure, she got her leg chopped off, but no reason to bring the man down. That wasn't his problem. "We just need to rest a minute." Of course, she also had to prevent Curtis from resting _too _much. Then she'd be the one hauling his slumbering form around.

"I get that." The man slumped over, looking exhausted. "I'm so tired. This isn't how I thought the day would go."

"No kidding," she replied, at which he chuckled.

"True. I guess you didn't expect to, um, die." No, but she wasn't necessarily against it. She was almost glad… but maybe she'd regret that once she left to "live" among the living. Her tune might change when faced with worlds which had no place for her. "Also nice to be here. The Valor's a storied ship. One of EarthGov's oldest vessels… guess they didn't expect to go down like this, either."

Then his jaw tightened, and he became serious. Some pain mixed in, too. "I need to show you two something," he said through gritted teeth. All this implied a massive migraine and a heavy encroachment of the Marker's influence. He didn't have much time left.

"What?" Curtis asked. "And could you hurry? You don't look so good," he added at Nicole's request. Hammond answered without replying. Instead, he hobbled up and turned his camera. Took a second for the lens to adjust, but she understood its importance immediately once it did.

The corpse of one of those ultra-fast Necromorphs lay dead at his feet, cleanly shorn of both legs. Too surgical for Hammond's Pulse Rifle to have been the cause. She quickly spotted what did it: a strand of wire fastened two feet off the ground in a doorway maybe 10 feet back. _Damn, that's smart._

Hammond strung the cable up and used himself as bait. The thing bought it, charged at him and the wire took its legs off while momentum made all the pieces fly halfway across the room. Clever. The man was a soldier, no doubt about it. He was able to take enemies out with both guns and traps. Nicole would've been envious of those skills if they didn't involve killing things.

Anyway, this species looked similar to a regular Slasher. Obviously very different in behavior, but the only visual discrepancy (besides normal variations in flesh pigment and level of decomposition) was a significantly bulkier body, more in-line with the Hunters'. That made sense, considering marines were given gene therapy to build muscle mass.

"The infection has done something to these marines." Hammond demonstrated by kicking one of the still-attached arms. It went off like a bad firecracker before slowly sputtering out. "The stasis units in their RIGs have been assimilated into their flesh! It's part of their biology now, but the effect has somehow been… reversed. Makes them move fast. This thing would've taken my head off if it didn't run into that wire." Hammond rolled the torso over with his foot. Sure enough, the tachyon-producing module, back-mounted on all RIGs, had fused into its spine!

What she'd give to observe those cells under a microscope or a particle accelerator! Humanity had tried to reverse the effects of stasis for as long as tachyons had been known to exist. That the Marker cracked the science before her former species' brightest minds embarrassed her, but that was far offset by curiosity.

And then she crashed, and it all fell apart. Fell on her ass while Curtis and Hammond were talking.

Necromorphs opted for organic solutions to traditionally technological problems. Served them well for the most part – well enough to overrun a platoon of well-armed soldiers in minutes. Yet they could apparently be augmented by machinery. She thought Mercer shoving mind control torture tech into Jacob, Elizabeth and Harris only worked because of their unique nature, but that proved incorrect. Any of them could be heightened in such a way, given the correct robotics.

Hypocrisy or pragmatism? She didn't know, but it destroyed her view of herself. Even though she despised her creator, she at least thought it made her better. Now she couldn't be sure! The only thing the Marker wanted to do was eat and grow and consume, not raise its pawns to any sort of enlightenment. She was happy to finally be on the same fucking page. So, she just lay there on the floor while Curtis' mind was flooded with fear for her, but he couldn't intervene.

He and Hammond quickly worked out their plan while she sulked. During this time, he downloaded a map of the Valor from its databanks (no password or hacking required to access something so basic), so they now had the tools to navigate this ship as well as the Ishimura. All that progress rang hollow. Didn't matter. She may have lost a leg, but this revelation ripped out her heart. It might seem trivial to harp on to an outsider, but this was her life now. Metal and flesh, the war between them.

She lost that war.

Curtis finished the call and turned to her, removing the helmet to remind her that, ultimately, he was also made of meat, no matter how much he tried to hide it. She was glad to see his face, even if it had been beaten to a pulp. _You can talk to me._

_I know. _She sighed, and the air flowing through her necrotic lungs sounded more like the wheeze of a dying gerbil. Lovely thought. She debated whether or not to open up. He didn't need more baggage, especially for something entirely affecting her. Her job also made it tough, for you didn't just talk about patients' difficulties.

But she ultimately chose to. He deserved to know, and he wanted to share in her feelings. That was one of the most remarkable things about him. He chose learning over ignorance. She knew how hard that was. _All this time I've been a Necromorph, I thought I was _better_. Stronger, faster, tougher than a human. _

Her whole life – both her lives – was all about the human form and its limits, what it could and couldn't do! For a moment, she thought she'd surpassed those limits. She thought this was a nostrum for disease, old age, and so on. _Now I know it was all a lie! I'm _not _better. The Marker is using _your _technology to improve my species. _She worried that even with their Bond, her words came across as unclear at best and whiny at worst.

However, Curtis succinctly distilled the crux of her anguish. _You're scared that being a Necromorph is pointless if there are no benefits._

Exactly! Physical improvements to human biology were what made being _this _worthwhile. She was just as physically adept as Curtis, who wore one of the most advanced RIGs in the galaxy. But how long would those advantages last? Technology had hit something of a slowdown in the last century, but progress had a habit of marching on in spite of hiccups. Soon, even better suits would be developed. What about crazy shit like teleportation?

Sounded insane, but so would ripping apart planets and slowing down time to people 500 years ago. All of this was purely speculatory, but it highlighted a fact. Technology evolved in a day more than living (or dead) beings evolved in a millennium. How long before she was obsolete? How long before she was worse than humanity in every way?!

_Calm down. _Curtis put his hands on her shoulders; only then did she feel herself hyperventilating. Out of habit, her lungs pumped oxygen quickly and loudly. Sounded like a leaf blower with how much they'd atrophied. She clenched her teeth and willed her organs to settle down. Though each cell was its own tiny mind, all ultimately answered to her. A final wheeze, and her rotten heart stopped.

_Rotten. _That's what she was, through and through.

_No, you're not, _he insisted. _I mean, not in a bad way. _She snorted. Always the guy to say something like that. Almost too nice to her. _My point is, you're better than you're giving yourself credit for. You've done so many incredible things. I don't have time to name them all, but I'd be dead without you. We all would. _The honesty he radiated gave pause to her cynicism. He believed what he said. Not that he'd lie, but… she didn't know. There was no spin, just good will and concern. He sighed.

_A bunch of acids stuck together or metal beaten into shape don't make someone a person. It's what's in here. _He tapped his chest, signaling to his heart. _Nothing, not science or biology can make this. _Actually, hearts could easily be grown in a Petri dish. The joke rang hollow, however; she knew what he meant. He spoke of something more elusive, a spirit or soul. Used to sound like bullshit to her, but after everything… she was starting to buy it. After all, her mind existed after death, suffusing her being despite no longer having a brain. Maybe that's why AIs didn't work; humans couldn't build the most important part.

Curtis leaned against the wall, in almost as much pain as her. They felt each other, and it wasn't pleasant. _I don't know if that helps you, Nicole. I wish I had the answers. _He glanced down for a moment._ The one thing I know is that I love you and won't give up on you. Please don't give up on yourself._

They couldn't have lingered there more than an extra minute, but it felt much longer to her. She didn't know how to feel yet, but she realized many of his points were correct. And his support meant so much. There was going to be a lot more angst about this in the future, but for now, she endeavored to pull it together. _OK, _she thought while standing up. _What's next?_

**20 Hours, 45 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Curtis peeked from behind the corner before waving Nicole forward. She somersaulted across the hall, deftly avoiding a Twitcher's gaze. Another spot-on name, if he said so himself. _It's pretty spiffy, _his girlfriend acknowledged as he tiptoed past. He could tell she wasn't feeling great after their conversation, but she seemed better. His thumping heart calmed a little with the knowledge he genuinely helped her. If only everything was so rosy.

Back to being light on his feet, inasmuch as that was possible while donning a suit of armor that weighed as much as he did. Reminded him of the early hours of the plague, when he crawled around in the dark without a weapon or knowledge. Not that he'd become a meathead marine, mindlessly murdering things in the meantime, but he'd grown more confident as time went on. Now he was back to basics. Not a bad idea to use subterfuge instead of brute force, but it still put him on edge. What if they got caught with their metaphorical pants down?

Nicole, now ahead of him, signaled that the coast was clear to cross another room, this one some small office. Made sense enough to have on a military ship. He was fixated on the architecture, having never been on one. It was also important to the plan he and Hammond concocted.

He would head to the engine room at the stern, the only part of the vessel that hung from the Ishimura. While there, he'd do what he could to get the shockpoint drive disconnected, though it might be very difficult without Isaac. Meanwhile, Curtis and Nicole headed for the Bridge, which apparently was located in the middle of military vessels instead of the fore; officers were more protected from debris and pirates' guns that way.

It also meant getting there'd be relatively easy. No way they could sneak a mile there on foot. At the thought, his legs began to ache again. _Too bad there's no tram._ The Ishimura was the only ship he'd ever been on large enough to warrant one, yet it was difficult to relinquish creature comforts. Then again, this day had been nothing _but _sacrifice, so perhaps it was best to hold his tongue… brain.

On the Bridge, it was their job to smash all the computer banks, then exit and rendezvous before going to the Executive Shuttle. Like Kendra did with the Ishimura itself, there couldn't be any evidence left about the Marker. Had to destroy everything. That's what Hammond said. Probably what would happen, too, but Curtis couldn't stop thinking about another possibility. He'd just have to wait until they got there to decide. That in itself would be really hard. Regardless, he didn't know how viable this was. Hammond seemed distracted during their conversation. How much fight did he have left in him? Still, he'd worry about that later. For now, it was all about following Nicole's lead as she slid from cover to cover.

As time passed, he noticed brown splotches on the walls and floor. Corruption began to bloom, which dampened the possibility of other Necromorphs sensing her mind… for now. At some point, it'd become self-aware enough to start yelling her location to others of her kind, instead. That was the impression he got, anyway; no idea how this stuff worked. Get a xenobiologist on it – wait, there weren't any.

It took less time than he thought to get there. Progress was constantly impeded by Necromorphs and junk blocking the halls. This was offset by the topography being so simple: a regular grid pattern with straight corridors and rooms between them. What a concept! Finally, a ship with common sense applied to the design, as opposed to the Ishimura, which was what happened when you took a vessel over 60 years old and remodeled it every decade or so.

The door closed behind them as they stepped inside, and he gratefully stretched his legs while looking around.

The presence of dead _human _bodies was notable; they'd seen some so far during their trek, mostly impaled or split open with guns still in-hand, but not many. He assumed this group had been killed fairly recently, considering their blood hadn't yet congealed. Now the Infectors just had to swoop in and get to work. _Or maybe they'll mutate on their own. _The escape pod they picked up contained a Slasher, so other phenotypes must also have been capable of passing on the curse. Probably just took longer to set in.

_Then we'd better hurry, _Nicole thought. Curtis took stock while she made sure the doors were sealed. The room was similar to the Captain's Nest on the Ishimura's Bridge in many regards. Had several seats for officers, a holographic map of the Aegis system and a large, curved row of monitors around what must have been the captain's chair. Couldn't have been the place he'd seen on video, since that place was invaded much earlier than a few minutes ago, but the look was similar.

Curtis shuddered. Yep, this must have been one of the final places the Necromorphs ransacked. It didn't take that long for him to notice one specific thing, though, or rather its lack: there were no computer banks. Nothing to smash. Maybe the Valor got a retrofit since Hammond served.

_I guess he was wrong about the hardware being up here, _Nicole said as she trotted back over. Hmm. He started mulling possible solutions, but nothing leapt out at him about how to complete their mission. The most obvious solution was to access the local Transnet directly, since this was the hub, servers or not. The problem was that they didn't have a passcode, and that was surely needed on a military vessel. Nicole was significantly less concerned.

_Don't you remember? _she asked with a chitinous eyebrow raised. _Right after we found Isaac, we had to get Captain Mathius' RIG. That had the codes to the whole Ishimura computer system in it. _Yeah, but what did – oh. He was dumb.

His head shot to a skewered corpse collapsed in the big chair. Curtis may have been stupid, but he was smart enough to guess who it used to be. Almost seemed alive despite the grisly hole in his chest; he'd seen many, many dead people that day, but most had already _changed_. He didn't know if he'd ever been so close to a freshly deceased body. It grossed him out and kind of scared him. He was desensitized to gore, but it almost seemed like the dead captain would reach out to grab him.

Curtis activated the dead man's holo-screen and spun the requisite passcode (saved, thankfully) to display on the range of monitors. Some were cracked or dented, but all came to life at his command. This was the central nexus of every shred of text, audio and video entered into the system. Now he just had to figure out how to delete stuff. That actually wasn't too hard to figure out – a tiny wastebin icon was on the bottom right of the screen, so this worked like a regular RIG interface. He worried the military might use something alien to him.

He only had to destroy everything related to the Necromorphs. That was easy – they entered the vessel less than an hour ago, and he doubted many entries had been added during the slaughter. He maneuvered to the archives, and that indeed was correct. There were about a dozen items at the top (he sorted chronologically), all video. From the screenshots representing each, it was apparent they never stood a chance; all were people being ripped apart by shapes too fast to see.

These were consigned to the trashcan, as well as several of the entries beneath them just to be safe. He sighed and shook his head while Nicole stood as sentinel behind him. Before emptying the bin, though, something caught his eye.

One particular message was pinned at the top. Highlighted a different color than the rest, the timestamp seemed to indicate it came just prior to the Valor's departure from wherever it started, presumably Earth. Its title – **ORDERS**. Curtis felt a knot grow in his stomach. He had a bad feeling about it before he clicked. Once he did, his organs dropped into his feet, and he almost fainted on the spot.

**TOP SECRET: PRIORITY BLACK**

**FROM: DAVID CHANG, EARTH GOVERNMENT DEFENSE SECRETARY**

**TO: COMMANDER FRANCIS CADIGAN**

**OPERATION WHITE LIGHT**

**CEC vessel USG Ishimura in breach of Maritime Law Article 03-22. No contact with Earth, but general distress signal. They are believed to have recovered Marker 3A, lost since 2314, from the surface of Aegis VII. If Marker 3A has been recovered, infection by a lethal extraterrestrial organism is a credible threat.**

**Shockpoint to Aegis system, locate Ishimura and destroy it. The Marker should be resilient to all conventional attacks. Afterward, recover Marker and return to Earth. Oracles to be dispatched if you fail, Cadigan.**

**Leave no survivors.**

After reading the final line, he collapsed into the chair – and onto the commander's body. Yelping, he rolled onto the floor. Started crying before he hit the ground.

They knew. Goddamn it, they knew all along! There was too much for his broken mind to piece together, but he understood that EarthGov knew of and wanted the Marker. And what they wanted, they got. The Oracles were involved, too?! Nicole rushed to him as quickly as somebody with one leg could. Not quick enough to stop him from vomiting in his helmet, though. Hell, he didn't realize that happened until bile and acid started dribbling into his eyes.

She got it off him while he was on his hands and knees. This was really fucking embarrassing, but he'd just unearthed the nightmare scenario. They knew about the Marker and would stop at nothing to get it. _I should stop calling it "the", _he thought while his best friend hugged him. _Marker 3A – there're more. At least two. _This was apocalyptic. They were already dead.

_Curtis, you need to calm down! _she yelled into his mind, trying to pierce the despair strangling him. Why? Why should he care when they were all fucking dead? _Because something's coming! _He bit his tongue long enough to hear banging in the vents above. Didn't think it was a Necromorph; sounded more like a jackhammer.

At least until the ceiling began to split open. Then he saw his mistake.

"Get up!" Nicole shouted aloud as a Twitcher dropped through. Pummeling metal to dust with its blades ground them down to irregular bony spikes. They looked more like splintered tree trunks than anything else. It stared with hollowed eye sockets, making its horrible gurgling sound along the way. "Get up, damn it!"

Time slowed down, but that didn't mean much when paired with such speed. His assailant's organs hung out, intestines trailing on the floor behind it. What a way to die. Full of puke and tears, his eyes screwed shut as he prepared to breathe his last.

Didn't happen, though. Some part of him knew it wouldn't. Or maybe some part of her.

"For the last time, get the fuck up and help me out!" Nicole screamed, having reached her breaking point. His vision returned, granting him the sight of her holding the monster's "arms" back with her claws. His guardian angel saved him again, and she didn't even have a leg this time.

Curtis shot up and groped for his Line Gun, but it was hard to think. So tired… his head split and pounded, sleep clawed at his eyelids, and the phantom screamed into his ears. The world spun; his body came close to giving up.

It wasn't a question of willpower. He'd been on his feet nearly an entire day straight, been shot, stabbed, beaten, bruised and bled so much that he couldn't believe he was still alive. His muscles popped, his bones strained, his tendons and ligaments ripped. Every second brought new pain, for he'd pushed his pitiful human body as far as it could go. Supplementing it with technology only prolonged his demise. The RIG served him well, but it didn't change the fact he was human underneath. He understood Nicole's anguish over getting the short end of the stick as far as physical capabilities were concerned, but he thought she had it all wrong. _She _was the one able to perform incredible feats without anyone's help.

His fingers wrapped around the stock, and he weakly brought it up to shoot from the hip. Nicole now thrashed against the ground, trying her hardest to keep the beast away from her. It was a losing battle; the spasming abomination pressed closer in waves, easily battering back something lower down on the food chain.

Then again, that also applied to Curtis.

He aimed the gun while his muscles burned. His vision drifted in and out of focus; he worried he'd accidentally hit Nicole. And if she lost another limb… that would be it. "Nicole," he muttered. "Could you try to – "

His lungs collapsed as a barrage of punches battered his chest. The Twitcher was even faster than he thought. He'd have been demolished if the thing's blades hadn't been worn down to stumps. Even so, another fusillade like that would crack his sternum with sheer brute force. He leapt back, getting a better look at the bulky beast as it jittered around.

_How do I kill it how do I kill it? _The words galloped through his mind nearly as quickly as the Twitcher tore through space. Wasn't a question so much as a string of words mushed into a meaningless drone. _Think think._

Nicole peeled herself off the floor, but it'd be a few seconds before she was ready to help – time he didn't have. His brain strained to invent a solution during the Twitcher's bouts of practically teleporting forward, taunting his sluggishness and inability to chop its fucking limbs off. It was too fast. Too fast to tag with a shot of plasma or –

_Fast. _During a moment between moments, he recalled something from Hammond's video feed. When he killed that Twitcher with a simple wire trap, it kept going. May have seemed supernaturally fast, but it still had to obey the laws of nature, including conservation of momentum. He knew from flying around in zero-gravity that it was difficult to slow down or turn when moving so fast. That gave him an idea: if he couldn't tag the Twitcher, he could at least corral it.

Curtis bit his lip for perhaps the last time and backed up against the wall. No place left to run – not that running would've been useful here. The Twitcher burst forward, appearing a few feet in front of him. The look on its face, frozen in rigor mortis, taunted him to try and land a hit. He did just that. Almost.

Curtis aimed a little to the left of the Necromorph's legs, though he wouldn't have landed a shot even with perfect accuracy. It disappeared the instant the plasma bolt left the Line Gun, and that's when he struck. He shot his load of stasis to the right before he even registered that the Twitcher moved.

He may not have been very smart, but he understood trajectory and velocity pretty well. Came with a decade of watching fast things travel in straight lines until being acted upon by gravity or kinesis. Or, in this case, spacetime being ripped asunder by subatomic particles. The cloud of blurry space was impacted by the tachyonic tangle, which chained the monster in time.

"How does it feel to be – " Curtis barely dodged the broken blade as it swung past his face. Not so fast as before, but hardly sluggish. Wreathed in azure light, the Twitcher had indeed been slowed – to about the speed of a normal person! It was still faster than him.

Not faster than Nicole, though, which became apparent as she crawled over and tore into the distressed creature. It never stood a chance against his girlfriend, who tore it limb from limb.

"Who's fast now, bitch?!" she raged, ducking under a final jab and tore its head off. The stasis faded as she dropped its skull with a wet thud, then crushed it underfoot. Curtis panted while stepping away from the wall.

_That was cool, _he meekly thought, swaying back and forth. Nicole gave a quick nod, and he sighed. Their job here was done; no point waiting around. Time to get out. He looked back at the deceased captain once more, ringed by flashing screens, in wonder and terror. In life or death, the government was coming for him. _I'd rather die to Necromorphs. _At least he wouldn't be tortured that way.

While Nicole cleaned the gore off her claws, Curtis called Hammond up again to let him know their job was done. All he had to do was get the component, and they'd be golden. He was feeling confident. The look on Hammond's face when he answered shook that feeling greatly. It was blank. The classic thousand-yard stare, right at him. "You, um, feeling all right?"

"Not so great," he rasped, slumping back. His mouth began to tremble. "I see them. Everyone who's ever died under my watch." Oh _fuck! _Why hadn't he thought of that before?! Of course that's who he'd see. Curtis stupidly assumed it'd be one or two people like most were tormented with. No, it was far worse than that. Nicole rushed over and practically ripped the holo-projector from his chest.

"Where are you?" she demanded as he presumably tried to bat spectral hands away from him. Muttered nonsense to himself. Damn it, if he could have just held it together an hour longer! It also made him terrified for Kendra. How much more time did she have? "Where are you?" she repeated more tersely. Didn't scream, though, and that got him to answer.

"Somewhere near the barracks, I think," he slurred. Probably not a great place to be. He assumed the place would be a hive of Necromorph activity with how many people would've been in there. The Marker might've guided him there to kill him.

"All right," Nicole replied, using everything in her to try and deescalate the situation. "Hammond, you're sick. Find a place to hide. We'll take care of the shockpoint drive. Meet us there if you feel better." He nodded but didn't seem to fully understand. "Don't listen to anything your soldiers say. They aren't real – they're dead. And, uh, don't kill yourself or anything." Again, he nodded, and the slight shift in his expression _might _have been a good sign?

He hung up, and the two immediately looked at each other. A shared sense of dread seized them as they started down the hall. This just got a lot more complicated.

…

Nicole limped along with Curtis. Two bodies, they were of one mind more than ever. They submerged into their combined headspace, drowning themselves in each other's thoughts. Being individuals was too hard at the moment. Between his mental trauma and her physical disability, neither did too well by themselves. Therefore, they decided to consolidate, meshing their minds together so much they were nearly one.

It was remarkable how much their Bond had matured. She could have done this with another Necromorph in her sleep (if she still had to sleep), but she never expected to get so close with Curtis. A part of him was horrified by being essentially a gestalt organism. Most of him, however, recognized that this state was temporary. It could be ended by either of them at any time, which reassured him that they wouldn't end up as a single fused mind stuck in two different bodies. He wanted to get close to her, but not _that _close.

Two very different chuckles simultaneously emanated from two very different mouths, causing both forms to tense up and glance at each other.

She saw her body through his eyes and his through hers, and vice-versa. A lot of "ands" there. She handled it better on account of six eyes not being too big of an upgrade from four and, of course, the fact that her body and mind were made for interacting with others like this. Just took a little adjustment, given that she'd been booted from the hive mind before doing this with another Necromorphs.

On the other hand, Curtis struggled. He'd never gone this deep before; the only experiences that came close were drug-fueled benders during his ill-spent teenage years. This was a literal out-of-body phenomenon, one he had difficulty adjusting to. He bumped into walls and fumbled his steps, but he preferred confusion and chaos to the pain upon returning to normal.

Learning that EarthGov knew about the Markers for so long fucked him up something royal. She'd be lying to say it hadn't also affected her. Signs pointed to it, such as the system being quarantined, but she still didn't think it likely. What threw her off most was the timeframe. Her brain, meshed with Curtis', drifted toward the words on the screen. It said the Red Marker (_one _of them, anyway) had been lost since 2314, nearly 200 years ago. More interestingly, it was also the year the Secession War ended. The first and only large-scale interstellar war humanity ever fought ended June 18th that year. She remembered it well from her studies.

With the end in sight and the war effectively lost, the Sovereign Colonies Armed Forces scuttled their remaining fleets and encouraged soldiers to turn their guns on themselves rather than surrender to EarthGov. They'd always lingered on that in history class, and the teachers were happy to share all the gory details. She still recalled some of the more _visceral _documentaries she had to watch in high school. Nothing compared to what she was going through now.

Also notable was the fact the Black Marker was found in 2214. 100 years from discovery to loss. Poetic and scary at the same time. She didn't know how it was possible for human extinction to not have happened in a span so vast – by human standards, anyway. Either they'd gotten really lucky… or the Markers didn't want to act yet. It was very possible that they needed to let humanity expand across the cosmos before having dinner. After all, the farmers of old didn't tend to butcher lambs. Why do that when your food could get big and fat? That way, there was more meat to go around.

The part of Curtis that was still active and aware begged her to stop dwelling on this, so she apologized to this other part of her mind as she and he and they kept going. She'd have time to think about this later.

The hall they went down to meet Hammond at the stern was like all the ones she knew and loved from back "home". Less Corruption, but that would soon change; more grew along every surface with each passing minute. She could blink, and more would be there.

Even worse, she suspected the main body of Necromorphs that chased them around the Ishimura was also on its way. That, she had no evidence of, just a gut feeling. With how spiteful the Marker was, it made sense for at least some of them to try and break in. She didn't know how much time they had, but it wasn't much, and neither part of their conjoined psyche had the fortitude for another round.

Curtis was going to again encourage her to shut up, but something caught his – _their _– eyes: a caduceus. The symbol of two snakes around a winged staff overlaying the Valor's draconic logo was one of the most garish things she'd ever seen, but it sure got their attention. The divine heraldry generally was still a medicinal symbol, and perhaps that was appropriate in this case. Both knew exactly what the doorway it was above led to.

They rushed over to confirm what they knew to be true. Bumped into each other on the way, which sent identical chills down both their bodies. The resonance almost toppled Curtis over, but she grabbed him, or perhaps herself, and dragged both of them to the door.

It was the infirmary; impressive, but it couldn't hold a candle to the Ishimura's state-of-the-art equipment. Miners weren't as expendable as marines when stationed in the middle of nowhere for months at a time. Still, it definitely had the equipment needed to get her leg into place.

_If we have time, _both of them thought at once. Both halves looked at the other and themselves. Fixing Nicole's leg burned seconds and minutes they barely had. Every grain through the hourglass raised the chances of someone meeting an untimely demise. _Do we want to take this risk now to make us stronger later?_

Both struggled with it. Nicole would be at a tremendous disadvantage getting into a fight with only one leg; even now, her cells cried out to be rejoined and made whole. That was the very essence of being a Necromorph, so it felt cruel to deny them. She also didn't know when the opportunity would arise again, for it seemed unlikely they'd have time to stop by the Medical Deck on the way back.

On the other hand, Hammond and Kendra and Elizabeth and _Isaac _were in terrible danger. Especially the last. She closed her eyes, and both saw him. Any delay meant she might never see him again. It was a crime that she couldn't do both. _Unless…_

The thought came from Curtis' half of their collective consciousness, but she rejected it the second it formed. They hadn't the coordination to pull a stunt like that. _Let's at least give it a try, _he persisted. She already knew he wasn't going to back down, so she reluctantly acquiesced. They would give it a try. And they'd look so stupid doing it.

**21 Hours Post-Outbreak**

Curtis felt ridiculous doing what he currently did, which perhaps was a blessing, as it offset the fear that came with being so deeply embedded in Nicole. He didn't even know whether "he" was the correct pronoun anymore. He was essentially a mind split between two bodies and wound up within another. Took a good deal of effort to sluice out enough of an independent psyche to think his current thoughts. "They" or perhaps even "she" would've been more technically correct.

After all, it was as if he'd lived another life. He shared all of Nicole's memories – childhood, higher education, up to now. It was a lot to process, and he knew these memories would disappear after he unshackled his brain from hers, but the experiences of someone from a different class and gender shot him in the chest. For now, he recalled what it was like to menstruate. That was not normal. Would've accused himself of being a pervert, but he couldn't choose what he suddenly knew.

On a more positive note, he also temporarily inherited prodigious medical skills from Nicole… whom he now operated on. While walking.

He deftly pushed and pulled the needle through pallid flesh. The leg was about halfway on by now, so the left semicircle of meat was held together by thread and Somatic Gel. The right hemisphere unflatteringly flopped around, which also made it difficult to grip. They'd encountered a few more Twitchers (and other types of Necromorphs, but it seemed everyone with a stasis module attached to them at the time of death was converted into the speedy monsters) along the way.

Proved to not be so tough out here; the Valor's regular geometry did them no favors. He could see and hear them from 100 feet away across generally hazardous terrain. That was enough time for him to drop Nicole (he wished there was a more flattering way to put it) onto the ground, yank out his gun and de-leg the charging Necro, which had no leeway, and, thanks to their momentum, no time to turn around. Led to some very satisfying hunting. If they ever entered a larger chamber, though, they were screwed.

Grunting, he adjusted his grip on his leg… wait, no it was hers… and drove the barb through lumpy chitin. Tricky, but he managed to keep a steady hand. Her knowledge and expertise wrapped around it. He just wasn't sure whether it guided him, or if it flat-out controlled his limb like a puppet. He also found his mind filled with medical miscellanea related to Nicole's – _not _his – body that she had studied.

For example, he now knew that the reason she was so flexible was because some of her skeleton had been transmuted into cartilage like a shark. Also like that vicious predator, she had extra rows of teeth in case some got knocked out. Her head could bash through a wall and her claws exerted enough pressure to slice an I-beam in half. In short, her body was designed to kill. To rip and tear and bite and murder.

And she didn't know how to feel about it. Incredibly useful for their situation, no doubt about that. But she didn't want to do those things. She didn't want to be a murderer, and he didn't blame her! She'd dedicated her whole life to healing; this was a final insult, especially with the angst she felt about maybe not being that much improved over a human after all. But there was no doubt he'd be dead without her, so maybe it wasn't that bad.

He had it just about done as they approached the engine room; his new map came in handy here. They heard the clanging of machinery well before getting there. The engines still fired, futilely straining to push the ship along. All their motive power was no match for hundreds of decks and floors resisting the pressure. Good thing the Valor got wedged in so tightly. The Ishimura would be shorn in half if it came out the other side.

They arrived in the engine room a few minutes later… beneath it, rather. This was the underbelly of the forge, a place he'd never been on the Ishimura, or anywhere else for that matter. The substrate housed miscellaneous machines that kept the stuff above running. Only engineers went to places like this. Maybe Isaac went there while trying to fix the engines. All he knew was that it didn't resemble anyplace he'd ever been, at least in current conditions.

The air was cold as ice. He felt its sapping sting only through Nicole. Fortunately, she shrugged off the vacuum of space without a problem, so this didn't affect her beyond that. The floor was slick with frost, and icicles hung from the ceiling. Would've thought it a hallucination if Nicole didn't corroborate all this. His entire experience with engines was _heat_. Fusing hydrogen into helium made as much as a star. Seemed impossible to be as cold as an icebox mere meters below where that happened.

_I don't think it's supposed to be like this, _she said while trying not to slip. Her claws crunched into the packed, brittle ice. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen so much at once. Sure as Hell didn't snow in the Hubs (rarely snowed south of the Arctic Circle due to centuries of global warming), and the novelty subzero bars and clubs he occasionally patronized were on the small side. The only thing missing was actual snowfall. _There! _She pointed a claw toward streams of clear liquid falling through the grates of the floor above. He thought it was water at first, but then he noticed the stalagmites of ice they pattered onto.

_Liquid hydrogen, _she stated matter-of-factly. _Some fuel tanks above us must have ruptured. To stay fluid, it needs to be stored at something like 50 degrees Kelvin. _Her intelligence always blew him away. Maybe this stuff was general "smart person knowledge", but it always struck him that she'd be just as good as a scientist or lawyer. They were still Linked enough for him to know she was flattered.

_Is all this frost solid hydrogen, then? _he asked while looking at the buildup on just about every surface. The stuff kept Corruption away, at least. It didn't mind the cold, considering it could grow in space, but it wasn't able to grip on anything.

Nicole shook her head. _No way. The area's reaching equilibrium temperature, so there's no way it is or will get cold enough for that. _He pretended to understand what that meant. _Plus, it quickly evaporates into gas if not pressurized. _And that, he did understand. Maybe a bit too well. His eyes dashed to the oft-neglected atmospheric readout on his HUD. Indeed, a significant percentage of the air was hydrogen. Hadn't affected his breathing because there was still plenty of oxygen to go around, plus it would gather in the upper chamber, but he decided to keep tabs on it. _Either this place was leaky with water beforehand or the water in the air is condensing. Probably both._

It was easier to distinguish his body from hers now, and they attempted to separate their intertwined minds. Their time as a fused organism had been surprisingly valuable, but he felt it had been time enough. Luckily, he knew how to separate his mind without hurting it. How?

His assumption was that it was naturally part of them developing a Bond. If Necromorphs instinctually knew how to do this, it followed that the same rules applied to him. Honestly, that freaked him out more than anything else, even the whole "becoming a gestalt intellect with Nicole" scenario. She assured him otherwise, but he couldn't help wondering how much longer it would be before Necromorph psychology began replacing his own? Would he be tempted to kill people?

_I told you, it's not like that, _she repeated, a little annoyed at this pesky part of her mind. Even as one, they spent too much time bickering. It'd be better once they got some rest and weren't on the verge of death every five minutes. _We aren't inherently evil. The Marker controlled my mind and body. No matter how we look, we're just… _people.

It was true. He'd been submerged in her for a long time and hadn't been swept by the currents anywhere malicious. He'd been pushed on in that deep ocean without seeing anything damning. There was darkness, yes, but not evil. She was hurt and ashamed by the things she'd done in the past, the times she failed. So did he. Those same demons lived in him. It made her human… or maybe it made him Necromorph. He didn't know anymore.

The separation reached its midpoint. He felt their neurons detaching as they walked forward; he gained more individuality with each step. Almost felt disappointed. Being "together" like that was an experience unlike any other. Once he got used to it, they operated as one mind. He hoped they'd try it again sometime, preferably without the threat of death bumming him out.

He examined the room again. Not much to it. There was a bunch of… _stuff _around. He couldn't put function to form normally, and the fact everything was coated in ice made them nothing more than obstacles. Good for them. If he had to be in a room, he'd rather it have cover. The two made camp behind one of the things. Yeah, he really wished he had a flamethrower, so they could've started a nice little hydrazine fire.

He leaned against the frozen metal and looked at Nicole. She wasn't cold, but she remembered what it was like to be. Leaning her head against his, she looked at the frozen waste as they stole a moment to rest. Her being there meant the world to him. So they stayed, having their moment of safety together.

_Let's call Hammond again, _she whispered after far too short a time, but Curtis wasn't begrudging. Even though he was scared about what they might see, it'd be better than not knowing. Didn't stop him from practically gnawing off his tongue while he dialed.

Curtis felt a pang of relief when the call was answered before too long, then another when the static cleared, and it became apparent that Hammond hadn't clawed his face off in a fit of dementia. He looked battered and tired, but not mad. "Uh, hey," he muttered so as to not blow Hammond's cover, if indeed he was trying to be stealthy. "How are you doing, man?"

"Better," he croaked, stepping into an alcove for a moment of safety. "My, um, 'ghosts' – " He grimaced and spat something out, either a wad of bloody saliva or a whole tooth. "They went away after a few minutes. My head still hurts like a bitch, though." He could relate. Anyway, that was good (relatively speaking). Hammond must still have been in the "intermittent insanity" phase instead of the "all crazy all the time" one. The transition between those two could be quick, though, so they still had to be fast.

"That's great," Nicole said. He often found it better when they spoke as one, especially with his throat really hurting. It'd been shredded from all the yelling he'd done. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Still not fantastic, but good enough." He adjusted his grip on his gun… _was _it his gun? Hard to tell with the fog and the fact he was hardly a weaponsmith, but the firearm looked different from his old Pulse Rifle. Whatever. "I'm headed to the engine room now. I haven't forgotten that."

"Actually," she quickly interjected, "we're already here. We'll take care of it. You just get off the Valor." He was about to argue until doubled over by another spike driven into his brain. Curtis may not have had a psychic link with him, but he cringed all the same. "It isn't safe here. There's a whole horde of Necromorphs on the way." Curtis could've sworn he saw the man's eyes alight, but he probably only imagined it.

"Yeah, yeah, all right," Hammond absentmindedly replied. "I guess I'll get out of here, then. Leave you two to your own devices. Need anything from me first?"

Nicole started to shake her head, but then Curtis mentally whispered something to her. _Really? OK. _"Curtis wonders what kind of gun that is. He thinks it's different than the one you had before." It probably wasn't important, but he asked on the off-chance they could salvage something better for him. It was a military ship, after all. They'd passed veritable crates of military ordinance for this "war", but Curtis didn't pick any up. Likely all less effective than the Line Gun at dismemberment, not to mention the fact he'd never held a real gun in his life!

"You have a good eye," Hammond said as he raised the thing to his chest. That allowed Curtis to see it more clearly. As opposed to the triple-barreled cylindrical Pulse Rifle he was familiar with, this one looked more like standard assault rifles from older vids. About the same size, but totally different in shape. "The one I used to have was a SWS Motorized Pulse Rifle. That's been the stock model for the past few decades, but I lost it during one of my 'outbursts'." He flinched at knowing it'd happen again, and Curtis wished he could do _anything._

"_This _is the M41A Pulse Rifle. It's pretty old – goes back to the late 2100s, but it stayed popular through the 2300s. It's the ancestor of the SWS, as you could probably guess by them sharing a name." Wow. Curtis found it incredible that people were still using a gun that'd been around since before they discovered the Marker. The design had probably been updated with new components, but still. "Very popular with the Colonial Marines – the Sovereign Colonies' soldiers, that is – during the Secession War. It was the first other weapon I found lying around, so I just went with it."

That was information than he thought he'd get, and Hammond could clearly talk about this all day, so Curtis cut him off. "I'm sorry but we really have to go now."

"Of course. Didn't mean to keep you. Good luck, you two." They exchanged some pleasantries before signing off. When they did, some of Curtis' confidence was restored. Maybe they really could do this! All they needed to do was go up. A lot of that fell away as he looked at the ceiling, though. Light spilled through many grates atop one another, seeming to stretch forever.

_Uh, how are we going to get up there? _he asked, more to himself than to Nicole. She was happy to answer, however.

_What about those? _She pointed at the unknown shapes rising from the floor, one of which they leaned against. Hadn't the foggiest idea what they were, but he did catch her drift. It'd be tough, but they looked climbable. _Let's test that hypothesis out._

Curtis sighed as he kicked a notch into the anomaly's icy surface, then punched out a handhold. The metal crumpled in his grasp. His RIG could overcome normal steel, and the cold made it brittle. Only problem was gravity pulling him down. He would have suggested trying to damage the gravity panels, but then he remembered Jacob coming to pieces after doing that to one.

Like a long-extinct monkey, he shimmied up the structure and splayed out on top, already exhausted. Vaporous breath condensed against the inside of the helmet. Normally wasn't so bad, but extreme cold made the fog much worse. Nicole fared a little better, nimbly skittering up the wall, but she was careful with her claws. It would've been tragic if one of them snapped off.

He heaved a sigh, and his blurry visions settled on the grate a few feet above him. This wouldn't be a fun climb.

**21 Hours, 15 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Nicole worried she'd made a mistake. Between Curtis wheezing and the fire in her muscles, it wasn't a good time to be alive… or dead. She felt her boyfriend roll his eyes. Yeah, yeah, the whole "he's alive, I'm dead" schtick got old, but her sense of humor was never the most developed. Part of being so taciturn. Anyway, this was really no time for comedy of any flavor, considering the challenge they faced.

After clamoring up ten or so stories, they lay under the final grate. The top of his metal head pressed against the calcified bumps on hers. Both refused to budge. Annoying, but she couldn't acknowledge it. There were hunters about. The small "H" kind, fortunately.

A warped snarl above her was a reminder of that. The Necromorph's shadow passed over her face, and she shuddered at the sight. No thought or sign of anti-life was safe when a dozen killer flashes stalked. She didn't think. She wasn't afraid – or anything else. That was Curtis' job now. Fortunately, no matter how much he denigrated himself, he had a good head on his shoulders. As long as it got off of hers.

She heard him swivel around and begin crawling on his stomach through the substructure. Once he was clear, she turned to follow, being sure to keep her claws and other pointy bits from banging against the ground. Likewise, Curtis did his best to stay on the polymer pads of his RIG. There wasn't as much noise as she expected to cover them. The engines still weakly strained, but most of the hydrogen fuel tanks had burst open, creating the mess down below.

She found it miraculous that the main fusion core hadn't split open. If that happened, the explosion, which might've also detonated the Valor's record-breaking nuclear and antimatter payload, would have been visible from the far reaches of the Aegis system. Like, she didn't know enough to do the math in her head, but it'd be big.

_Big enough to destroy the Marker, _she mused. As strong as it was, the heart of a miniature supernova ripped _atoms _apart. Unless the Marker was made of exotic matter (not impossible given its alien origins and properties), it'd be reduced to a fine mist of protons and neutrons. That'd be the end of it, the Necromorphs and Curtis. _And Isaac. _But it would also save the human race from her "father".

She glanced at the Valor's heart as they approached on hands and knees, pilgrims kissing the feet of a god not her own. It faintly glowed between the cracks, eerie green light dancing on the floor before them. They could do it – make the reactor go critical, set in motion everything she'd just described. Maybe that would have been better. She wanted to live, but risking humanity for the sake of five or six lives seemed a poor wager.

_We're not going to do that, _Curtis said, sounding unsure himself. _Our plan will work. _Yes, she believed it would. Just hard to look at such stakes analytically. If they lost their bet… Well, Curtis helped. Nice to be able to think from a more emotionally driven perspective, and vice versa. _And I'm not leaving you behind. Not again._

_Curtis… _She wanted to touch him, but circumstances prevented her. They had work to do, and no amount of affection from her could change that. _What happened to me wasn't your fault, _she continued, asking that he toss his demons aside. No small task for anyone. _You went to help Gabe, Lexine, all of them. You didn't abandon me to die._

_I still regret it, _he mumbled. They agreed to disagree, reaching the end of the line a minute later. Through Curtis' eyes, she saw the sturdy bulkhead. Beyond must have been space. Engines were at the stern. Unnerved her to know that they dangled in the void, one wrong move away from careening away. No worse than everything else happening and all the enemies around.

Speaking of which, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the world around her – what little there was. Not sensing any nearby minds, she alerted Curtis that they were safe. Therefore, he reached up and wrenched away the grate above them, and both scrambled into the engine room proper. It was good to stretch her legs again and smell slightly less foul air.

_All right, _Curtis thought, _we just have to find the thing. Um… _They stopped their celebration to look through the mechanical maze. No immediate indication of where the singularity core was. All around them were the engines, which Curtis acknowledged as far less frightening than the Ishimura's. _Let's start._

Splitting up would make for a quicker search, but they decided to stick together. She found no eavesdropping minds, but that could change. They had to be ready, especially with both of them in such bad shape. Couldn't last more than a few more fights with all the shit they pulled. She didn't even think Necromorphs could get that tired, but she felt exhausted. They began their search, her sniffing the air and Curtis trying to use his map to navigate.

It didn't take long to catch onto a general direction. The tech here seemed oriented around a structure in the middle of the open space. Too obscured for a good look from the ground, and she was too tired to climb, so they kept going the usual way. Through the labyrinth they trudged, not speaking to each other, for there was nothing to talk about. There was only the journey, a notion heightened by the soft thrumming around them.

And then they were there. They emerged from the jumble of concentric circles into what could have been a temple or mausoleum. A shrine stood in the center, the soul of the ship. Everything on the vessel relied on it for "life". It wasn't dissimilar to the Necromorphs: thousands of individual units joined in thought for a singular glorious purpose. There were differences aplenty, like this machine not being alive, but the parallels were there. Gah, she wanted to _stop _thinking about technology and crap. _Let's get the thing and go._

They just had to open this vault first. Shockpoint drives cost hundreds of thousands of credits, so they weren't kept in the open. Not just anyone could access it. Fortunately, they had more brute force options than most people… but they needed to be careful. Couldn't do something like using Curtis' Line Gun to carve their way in. This was sensitive equipment!

In tandem, she slowly peeled back the thick metal casing with her claws while he sliced through more delicate parts with a small plasma torch. She kept a mental vigil all the while – and she didn't like the vibes she got. Hard to pin down any specifics with the massive amounts of metal in the way, but a great meeting of minds seemed to be gathering fairly nearby.

The vault gradually came undone. The thick exoskeleton sheared away under pressure and heat, and bright light poured from the wound. Her muscles strained as she gave a final tug, and the metal angrily clattered across the ground. She plunged her claws in and seized the heart of a god. The glare blinded her as the heat smoldered bone, but they didn't have time to wait!

_All right, let's go, _Curtis thought while packing up his stuff. _Hopefully Hammond is waiting outside the Valor for us. If not… _He didn't want to think about the possibility. _We'll just have to hope. _With that uncomfortable notion firmly in mind, they started trying to find the hole they dug. Easier than making new ones.

The machine's glow dulled without a fuel source. Nicole succumbed to curiosity and stared deep into the device, reducing to a cobalt ember in her claws. It plopped down into her grasp with just the faintest bit of burning as it hit her flesh. The smoldering glow evoked awe in the both of them. In her hand, she held the most powerful piece of technology humanity had ever built. Possibly only second to the Markers as far as reality-warping machines were concerned.

Incredible how it could fit in her palm. Even on Planet Crackers, far more massive in tonnage and length than military vessels or civilian ships, she guessed the things weren't larger than footlockers. Not quite equal to what sustained them; while building-sized engines and fusion reactors powered every facet of a vessel when not in FTL, this diminutive thing took nearly all that energy to tear a hole in the universe and leap into another.

It was about the size of a small saucer and shaped like the letter "Y" or maybe a nuclear trefoil. The only aspect distinguishing it to the uninitiated was the light it emitted. Somehow ethereal and otherworldly, like it came from shockspace itself. If only Isaac were here. He would have loved to see it. _We'll – _Yeah, they'd find him. She knew that… at least, she hoped she did. The fact he was alone out there drove her mad. _Point taken, _Curtis conceded.

They found their exit without any issues, which surprised her. Given their luck, she expected to either get lost or be jumped by a small army of Twitchers. Didn't particularly reassure her; the whispers on the edge of her psyche continued to expand. More of a regular conversation at this point, though the meat of the discussion was _actual _meat. _Her _meat, to be precise, and how they'd wring it from her bones.

Rather morbid, now that she thought about it.

They seemed to be outside the Valor for now, either looking for or looking to construct a way in large enough for their small army. Her earlier suspicions proved correct. The Marker didn't trust its minions here to be enough to kill them. That brought an odd sort of gurgling to her gut; she was at once saddened by how much they hated her and proud of her skills. Regardless, her hope was to be gone before they muscled their way in.

Cracking her neck, she slid into the darkness, far more silent than the graveyard around her.

…

It was a doozy of a trip, but they'd finally come back. Curtis fell to the floor with a thud, cursing gravity. He rubbed his behind, thankful he hadn't put the shockpoint drive in his back pocket. Had enough common sense to store it in his vest, where it wouldn't be crushed by an unfortunate accident.

Nicole helped him up, which he needed to keep himself from slipping on the icy terrain. At first, he found the varied climate nice, even comfortable, a place to lose himself in the snow for a while. Now he saw it as a cold, inhospitable waste – somewhere he wanted to escape as quickly as possible. That went for the whole goddamn Valor/Ishimura combined mess, but that room in particular. Just had to bail before Nicole's "family" found them. The scratching in her mind bled over to his, which made his scalp itchy.

They were close now – inside the Valor, maybe. Hard to tell, for he wasn't a mind reader (not in the same vein as Nicole, anyway) and the many walls and floors did a number her accuracy. But definitely close, angry and starving. Not with human hunger, but something older and more desperate. Not necessarily darker, for it was the same sensation that Nicole felt when trying to reattach her leg. _To be made whole._

Those words were not entirely his own; they came from places deep within and far without, whispers skating on currents of memory. The Shadow Man, or whatever was left of him, spoke them into his ear. Curtis didn't fully understand what they meant – almost a Necromorph prayer, pleading to the Marker for a better existence. Maybe whatever forces were beyond it appreciated the loyalty of their supplicants.

He shook his head as his body quivered. _You're going to give yourself an aneurysm waxing philosophical, _he thought. He looked around the room and tapped his foot, waiting for Nicole to drop down.

"Curtis. Nicole. I'm over here." Curtis jumped out of his skin at the sudden words. So did Nicole, which meant this was no hallucination! What the Hell?! He whipped around, looking for the source until he saw Hammond standing there, shivering and trying to keep himself warm. His uncovered face didn't look frostbitten, luckily. "Good to see you."

"Hammond, what are you doing here?" Nicole asked. "We told you to leave!" There was more relief coming from her than anything, but it was quite a scare. Still, Curtis didn't mind the company. Besides, the man was a soldier – would he really run from a fight? Deep down, though, something seemed wrong with him that he couldn't quite place.

"Like I said, I felt better, and I thought you two might need some help on this." His bloody lips cracked into a wry smile. "You're a lot faster than I expected. You must already have the core." Nodding, Curtis plucked the thing from vest and held it aloft. Hammond's eyes alit, but not in wonder – in hunger, or perhaps anger. It was enough to force the device back into his pocket. His blood chilled like the air.

He wasn't privy to the secrets of other minds as with Nicole, but he knew Hammond neared his limit. Without a Bond, there was nothing to stop the Marker from sandblasting away his sanity. How many more minutes until he snapped and tried to kill them or himself? He began thinking of ways to knock the man out before he spoke again. The fire in his eyes faded back to something resembling normal.

"Good! That's your ticket out of here."

"'Your'?" Curtis exclaimed, more desperate than he would have liked. If only he activated the voice filter to project the aura of an emotionless robot than be so pathetic. Hammond mirthlessly chuckled at the odd couple.

"You said the entire crew is coming this way, didn't you? You're not going to outrun them." Curtis felt it now – a wave about to break. The tide, just as high as the other groups that chased them around the ship. By this point, he knew well enough what spearheaded the assault. She'd be there soon. "There's no way all of us are getting out. Someone has to stop them."

Curtis finally saw where this path led. It wasn't where he wanted, but he was a fool to think it would turn out the way he hoped. Nothing ever did. He was angry at himself for being so foolish after all this time. Hammond gestured to the back wall, beyond which was space. A few feet of metal, then nothing forever.

"I've already prepared it. Had to do something while you two were gone, after all." At first, Curtis couldn't tell what he was pointing at. It was ice like the rest… wait. No. The white stuff wasn't frost. The texture was wrong. Instead, the wall was covered in white clay. He felt like he might have known what this was, but he couldn't recall with how his brain raced. Nicole was equally stumped, and her anxiety only increased as the horde approached. She didn't fear her second death however – she was afraid of his first.

"We need to go," she demanded of Hammond again, muscles starting to tense. "I don't know what you're on about, but I'm not letting you die here. I'd rather not hurt you to save you." While Curtis agreed with the sentiment, he jumped in and tried to put a less hostile spin on it.

"Hammond, you don't have to be a hero," he stammered. "You don't have to throw your life away! We can get you help!" There had to be some way for them to all get out. He'd had this crisis before, and it never got any better. No matter how many battles he won, the grinding march of time and marrow took much away from him. Why was it going to happen again?

"Small words coming from somebody who's been a big goddamn hero more times than I can count." Before Curtis could react, Hammond yanked something out of his pocket. Time slowed; Nicole stepped in the way in case the man finally surrendered to shooting them. That simple display of affection warmed his world, but it was for naught. The thing in Hammond's hand was no weapon, certainly not the new rifle attached to his back. It looked more like a pen.

Nicole growled. Every tendon and ligament was on a hairspring trigger. Though he tried his best to pump warm feelings into her, she'd kill Hammond without a second thought. Fear made her desperate, and he understood why; a distant cacophony of roars began behind them. The drums of war sounded, and the army was only a couple minutes out. The Twitchers might be there in seconds. So there they stood, death at their back and a madman at their front.

"You have three seconds," she growled, "to get on the ground and let me knock you out. I really don't want to kill you."

That psychotic look was back on his face, though it swam through cycles in that brief moment, almost like a collage. His thumb trembled just above the pen's clicker, which Curtis started to feel very afraid of. _It looks like… a detonator! _Both of them recoiled back.

"Took you long enough to figure it out," he mused before pointing back over his shoulder. "The back wall's coated in a dozen bricks of plastic explosive. It's won't be enough to destroy the reactor and start a meltdown, but it'll suck out anything in this area that's not bolted down." He held out the machine, cleared ashamed of what he was almost about to do. "It's screaming at me. All of those people that died are, too. My friends. They want me to press it right now. I'm not going to, but still."

Well, that was it. There was nothing they could do.

"Damn it," Curtis cried under his breath. He and Nicole didn't have the time to talk Hammond down, and even if they did, he was getting crazier by the second! And Nicole _wanted _to kill him now! He was tied to the railroad tracks, helpless as the train demolished everything. The engine whistled louder as the locomotive kept barreling forward. He wanted to smash his head against the wall, but why hurt himself even more?

Somebody else was happy to volunteer, though. A gray blur sped by at that moment, past him, past Hammond and right into the back wall, where it left a smear of red against the white almost like a goddamn cartoon character. What was left of the Twitcher's torso flopped around before going still. Curtis would've laughed if the situation were any better. This was the funniest thing he'd seen all day. As he'd already seen, Twitchers had a hard time stopping under normal conditions. Add ice and a barrier, and they might as well have been jumping off a skyscraper.

_Curtis, we _need _to go, _Nicole begged. Taking a deep breath through his nose, Curtis turned back to see Hammond one last time. For what it was worth, he seemed sorry. Maybe it didn't have to be like this. Maybe there was something they could have said or done to make it right… but they didn't have it at the time. He knew he'd think of things later that would haunt him for the rest of his days.

Still, Curtis had one more thing to ask. It was what they planned on inquiring about once they left the Valor, but it had to be now. This was all they had left.

"What do you know about the Oracles?" The question was punctuated by another Twitcher becoming paste, though the screaming just down the hall also "enlivened" things.

"Not much. I wasn't an intelligence officer, just a soldier." Yeah, a good one, which was why Curtis figured he might have dirt. Commander? Captain? He knew nothing about actual military ranks, but he must've gotten pretty high up the chain of command to lead a rescue mission of such import. The CEC had to send their best.

"But I heard things. Whispers. Rumors. Hints. Not one thing, but something gleaned from decades of service." Even in the cold, sweat dripped down his face. "Supposedly, they exist outside the system and answer directly to the highest level of government. To Chang, maybe? I don't know." That'd be David Chang, EarthGov Defense Secretary. Sounded likely, since his name was attached to the text log. Curtis couldn't recognize most government officials by sight or name, but he remembered well the man who took up the reigns of every disaster, like Wanat. Appeared in public and everything, unlike the majority of politicians, content to live in their ivory towers.

Also had Unitologist script tattooed above and below his right eye. Like, plenty of people sported weird looks nowadays, but that was pretty maverick for a government secretary. Not easy to forget. So sure, the Oracles might well have answered to him.

"If it's true, they're deadly warriors, masters of infiltration and have technology they'd have to kill you after letting you see." When Hammond put it like that, they sounded like the only people in the universe who'd have a serious chance of beating back Necromorphs. Since EarthGov already knew about the Markers from God-knew-what, it meshed that they'd be the ones to "solve" that problem. His only question was how this related to Unitology. The Enigmas also must have been tied in. Did they have operatives embedded in the organization?

Nicole was about to grab him by the shoulders and yank him away, so he had to be end this. Shadows danced on the far wall, painting white and red black. Less than a minute now. The floor started to rumble from the coming stampede. He looked at Hammond one more time as they began to climb the way they came.

"I wish you the best," he called out. "Get out of this nightmare and live as best you can." Unslinging the Pulse Rifle from his back, he stood against the wall with it in one hand and the detonator in the other. "I'll hold them off as long as I can. I also want to put bullets in them before the vacuum does the rest."

"Goodbye," Curtis choked out. His eyes leaked hot wax as he climbed the pipes again. He didn't look back when the shooting started. All he knew was that it went on far longer than it had any right to.

**21 Hours, 30 Minutes Post-Outbreak**

Nicole was in a blind panic as she and Curtis charged down the hallway. It was empty of Necromorphs, but the Corruption tugged at her ankles, and the mounds of debris stifled their progress. Gunshots echoed from far away; Hammond put up one Hell of a final fight from the sound of it. Whatever was left of her willpower went into Curtis, trying to support his crumbling resolve so he didn't fall over and start bawling. Didn't know how long it would work for, but it was enough for the moment.

And now the Shadow Man was interspersed into her own vision. Going that deep allowed his delusions to cross into her reality.

So there she was, torn between panic, despair, sadness, anger and just about every other negative emotion. Yesterday, she would have called herself a basket case. Then again, she was also _alive _yesterday, so that didn't really matter. There was only one thing that could tear her from visions of cold and death. It came not long after.

A dull shockwave rocked the ship, followed a second later by a wall of compressed air, which blasted them onto their stomachs. As her ears rang, she felt the hole the explosion tore in her spirit. Curtis moaned as she pawed at the air. Better than a hole in her body, but it hurt so much worse, right where her stomach used to be. A hole in that, too, of course – anything she ate fell through there after leaving her esophagus. Her entire existence had been riddled with bullets that took everything away.

She groaned. A hundred minds blinked out of existence at once, creating that void. She'd compared it to losing a limb, but it actually turned out to be worse. With a little work, they'd found she could reattach severed appendages, but there was no getting her siblings back. Family or not, they lived in her head, and their dying thoughts cut her deeper than any blade. The last one cursed her as he faded, which was a final twist of the knife.

The Shadow Man stood above her and seemed to cock its head in concern. Without words, it impelled her to get up. She smiled through bloody, cracked teeth. What a compassionate demonic hallucination. Why it wasn't tormenting her boyfriend anymore eluded her, but it didn't really matter. Ultimately, she was a creature of flesh, something far less mysterious to her than the mind. _Maybe we'll talk again sometime._

Eventually, she peeled herself off the ground, feeling pieces of rubble drop from her sticky back. Curtis lay face-down in a pile of writhing flesh. Anyone else would've thought him dead. She knew better. Alive, awake and (relatively) unscathed, which was why the Shadow Man manifested to her at all. Still, his brain was blank. The only thing she discerned was a hole in his stomach very much like her own.

_Get up, _she said, gently raking her claws along his back. Nothing. Not a single spark of recognition. He'd been burned out. Sighing, she mentally checked in on the carnage below. Still too garbled to make out exactly how many were left, but it seemed a number of Necromorphs survived the blast, either having been far enough away or behind something when it happened. For now. The hole ripped in the side must have been significant, for she still felt minds fade as they were sucked out screaming.

There was no mourning the dead in their culture (if one generously wanted to apply that term), no funerals or last rites. The true dead no longer existed – or if they _did_, that was no longer the Marker's domain. It offended her that they didn't care. That was probably stupid, but their callousness to their own kind spoke as much to their inhumanity as the obvious. It had to be that way, though. If they cared, they'd think more, get their minds back and probably rebel. That couldn't happen, though, so the Marker made them only care about the living. How ironic.

_Seriously, get up! _This wasn't working. Left to his own devices, Curtis would mope here until the others came and shanked him to death. She needed to say something that would get him awake, something he didn't want to hear. Sighing, she bit the bullet.

_We have to get out of here, or Hammond died for nothing._

The words indeed snapped him awake – just not in the way she hoped. A fire lit in his empty gut, making his brain boil. His head snapped up, and she saw his frothing face with the helmet still on. "Fuck you," he spat. "You don't get to use his death against me. I wanted to save him too, you know?" The hole was now a gaping void. He was "awake" now, at least. The anguish, the pain, the sorrow he felt… it overwhelmed her. She knew her own feelings did the same to him. "How would you feel if Isaac died and I lorded that over you?"

He could go blow-for-blow, it seemed. Unlike before, though, she had no reservations about staying with him. Despite the pain, there was little malice or hostility (even Curtis' outburst was from grief instead of hatred). It also taught her a lesson, one she'd never really learned before due to her privilege and lucky breaks: sometimes, it hurt to be with somebody you loved. That didn't excuse abuse, but it meant they'd never always get along despite being closer than any two humans could be.

"You're right. I'm sorry."

He started crying. That was common enough – so much to weep over – but it was always warranted. She was mature enough to know it wasn't a sign of weakness or anything. Saw more of it than most at her job. Even with humans living longer than ever, death was still everywhere. That's why the Unitologist promise of life eternal was so perennially popular.

She hugged him with body and mind, wrapping around him like a fleshy cocoon. He did the same, and for a few precious moments, nothing else mattered. They existed to comfort their best friend. At least until the thrumming in her head got louder. They were hungry and coming.

_Will you get up now? _she asked. Curtis popped his neck and slowly stood, wobbling under the influence of slightly shifting gravity. His innards were essentially held together with tape. He'd last a little while, but it wouldn't be much longer before he started puking all over the floor. They started running faster than before, the small break as good for their legs as their spirits.

In terms of _good _news, it didn't take much longer for them to escape. Rounding a bend, they saw a gash in the hull that led out. Without hesitation, she flung herself through the hole and once again ended up on the ceiling. Not as much of a shock this time. Curtis followed, and she caught him as gravity slammed him upward; her supple flesh took most of the impact, allowing her to get up just fine. Funny. For how little meat was on her, she could still be somewhat squishy.

_Ow, _he thought. _Maybe I should have taken it slower. _A harsh giggle escaped his throat, one tainted as much by depression as filled with childlike wonder. "It was pretty fun, though." The words were mangled in a cheese grater with how destroyed his vocal cords were from both neck injuries and all the screaming. He'd need a lot of rest before he could really use them again. Hopefully that came soon.

Curtis patted his pocket to confirm the shockpoint drive was intact, breathing a sigh of relief when he found it was. _I'm going to call Kendra and let her know that we have it… and that not all of us made it._

Good idea. Still, she might do some of the talking to keep pressure off his throat. He dialed Kendra up with a vid-log, and the idle screen spun as data sliced through a digital fog of war. She answered before too long. Still in the same cramped cockpit, which now looked like a full-fledged shut-in's apartment with how much stuff, from wrappers to tools to scraps of paper were scattered across the background.

If they needed anything else to tell them Kendra was going mad, all the evidence was on her appearance. Her hair hung across her face; she'd managed to keep it under control until now, which Nicole found remarkable. She didn't have hair anymore, but when she did, it was fairly short and _always _went wild. Always wondered how Kendra kept that massive mane under control with all the shit they did.

"Uh, Kendra?" Nicole breached, hoping the woman hadn't fallen off her rocker. No response; her hair fluttered in a small wind. Reminded Nicole of some ancient horror vid, but she couldn't recall the name. That was more Curtis' domain. "Kendra?" she called a little louder. Still nothing. The woman remained still as a corpse… which she suddenly realized might have been right on the money.

"Kendra!" Curtis shouted. She recoiled from both surprise and the empathic pain that clawed at her throat; Curtis wasn't doing his voice box any favors. Supposed she couldn't argue with results, though. The programmer shot up, head darting from side to side as she brushed the hair from her face.

"Oh, um, sorry," she yawned after seeing no imminent signs of danger. "I hadn't slept in forever, and exhaustion finally caught up. Can't say I liked the dreams, though." Nicole had egg on her face for that. Maybe not in Curtis' eyes, but definitely her own. It actually slipped her mind what sleep was, for she didn't need it anymore. It was like getting new shoes – felt weird at first, but she adjusted very quickly. She wasn't going down the mental rabbit hole of "what is humanity" again, but it was disturbing to forget a basic biological function. "Did you do it?"

Curtis nodded, shakily reaching into his pocket and again extracting the device. Kendra's eyes sparkled through the muddy screen – the connection might not hold much longer.

"That's it!" she cheered, not yet knowing the cost. "You guys actually did it! I… I almost didn't think you would." Nicole cracked her neck as she tried to figure things out. Informing people about loved ones passing was one of the hardest parts of being a doctor, up there with craniectomies. She always dreaded it. Could've sent a nurse or assistant to do it, but she rarely did. No, it needed to be her. Her patients relied on many people, from secretaries to other doctors, but they were ultimately _her _responsibility. Medical technology advanced so much over the centuries, yet she couldn't save everyone. The consequences were hers, too.

Technically, Kendra wasn't Hammond's friend or even his coworker. Sounded like they only met a few minutes before their departure from Earth, but that didn't matter. Relying on someone in life-or-death situations made them closer than anybody. They were all friends now. "Have you heard from Isaac or Elizabeth lately?" she asked, slowly descending from the high of sweet success. "Oh, and where's Hammond? I haven't been able to contact him."

"Um, about that…" Curtis stood by, deferring to her judgement. "We haven't heard anything from Elizabeth or Isaac. Hopefully she's still planning to meet us on the Crew Deck." She bit what remained of her lip, if it could even be called that. "As for Hammond…" Her throat clamped, but she luckily didn't need to breathe. Still, getting the words out at all proved a challenge. "He's… dead."

She hacked out the final word, and her chest was seized like a vice. If she still had a heart, she honestly would have guessed this was cardiac arrest. Curtis cringed at it, too, far more "vibrant" to someone with more functioning nerves. For her part, Kendra took it better than expected. Just sat there, shaking her head in disbelief.

"He stayed behind to buy us some time," Nicole continued. "Didn't think he had the mental strength to make it to the shuttle. Killed a lot of Necromorphs, too." Made sure to leave out that he was minutes away from losing himself. That wouldn't have been so heroic. These amendments did nothing to soften her aching gut, but Nicole wanted to get them out there. His death hadn't been for nothing. Not if they escaped, anyway. It meant… it meant he mattered. It meant he did something bigger than himself, either in accord or opposition to some divine plan.

_Divine. _Now she was the one shaking her head. If _only_ she believed in God; that would at least give her something to blame for all this. Would have been so much easier to digest if this was destined to happen. Then it wouldn't have been their fault! But she knew better. Sure, the Red Marker did all this, but only because humans dug it up. They brought doom upon themselves.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Kendra eventually hacked out. "I – I wish I got to know him better." A dull roar came from somewhere nearby; Nicole couldn't pinpoint the direction, but it made her and Curtis speed up. They were nearly at the Ore Storage Deck's tram station… assuming it still worked. Getting to the Crew Deck would be much more problematic if not, being halfway across the ship, likely through innumerable areas where gravity or life support no longer functioned. Given the massive hole in the hull and sputtering reactor, she guessed it would only be a few more hours before everything turned off.

"So do I," Curtis said. The roar came again, probably a Brute's, and he said more softly, "We'll get there soon. Just be ready to install the shockpoint drive."

"It'll be easy enough," she sighed. She was crying. Or maybe she had been. Or would. "They're designed to be modular. Easy to wire if you know what you're doing. I can prep it in under an hour. Isaac could do it in less." They had a plan. All Nicole could do now was hope that Elizabeth was waiting with a hogtied Isaac when they jumped off the tram. "I'll see you two later. Good luck, and don't die on me. Please."

Well, they couldn't quite promise that. Curtis ended the call, causing Kendra's pained face to go up in smoke… only to be replaced with something else. _Someone _else. Someone she almost thought she'd never see again.

"Mr. Mason? Dr. Brennan? Ah, thank goodness you're all right!" Dr. Kyne said. The sight gave Curtis vertigo, and Nicole had to reassure him this was somehow real while Kendra flipped her shit at this new development.

"What? Who the fuck are you?!" she exclaimed. Having this guy bomb in seconds after she heard about Hammond's death was a new level of weird, and she admitted the guy's timing couldn't have been much worse.

"Kendra, this is Dr. Kyne, the Ishimura's CSO. I might have mentioned him a couple times before." Nicole scratched her head. She really didn't remember. "Though probably not a lot, because I thought he was dead or insane."

"Nothing so dramatic," he countered, actually seeming mostly put-together now. "It's true, I did have a bit of an _episode, _but I assure you, I'm much better now. Yes, Amelia worked wonders helping me through it." And there it was. Curtis spun Kendra a text log saying it was his dead wife before she had time to ask. "Anyway, I needn't dawdle. I've been monitoring your communications for some time – "

"And blocking them?" Kendra shot back. Nicole thought the accusation could have been more tactfully handled, but she had no room to criticize after she nearly killed Hammond during their last encounter.

"What? No, no. That would either be Dr. Mercer or the Marker itself," Kyne insisted. Hard to gauge whether or not he was lying. Nicole was never good at that, and he may not have even known he did it. It didn't really matter, anyway. Not like they could stop him. "But if I may, I was going to field a suggestion."

"Fire away." He pushed a hand through his receding hairline, smearing it with blood and grease.

"I've heard snippets of your conversations; you're planning on destroying the Marker, yes?" Curtis nodded, apprehension already creeping back in. "Well, I'm still around it. Helps keep me safe." That's right; he was in the Cargo Bay area sandwiched between the Flight Deck and Ore Storage. He'd gotten very lucky. If the Valor skewed just a few degrees in another direction, Kyne would be a flaming paste smear. "You're free to retrieve it whenever you like."

Uh huh. Surely nothing bad could come of this. The Marker couldn't possibly be luring them into a trap. Still, they might not have a choice. How else were they supposed to get it? "We might do that," Nicole muttered, still in shock about everything.

"I'll remain here. I've been doing some data analysis and collation on the Marker, actually." At this, Kendra perked up, and not in a good way. "I noticed Ms. Daniels _deleted _it all, but I've managed to recollect most of it." The man let out an insane chuckle, like someone was tickling his foot. "No better way to whittle away the hours than further the path of science." The crackling of data streams killed his half of the feed, which left Kendra steaming. Had to be frustrating to have this data keep appearing and needing to be destroyed.

It made perfect sense, though. As powerful as it was, one Marker couldn't destroy humanity. It needed to reproduce, for humans to build more of it or them. No wonder it drove people to study it; must have been facilitating its equivalent of reproduction.

"Fuck it. Fine." She threw her hands up in disgust. "I need a break."

"Hey, I get it," Curtis rasped. "But it doesn't change anything. We'll – " He doubled over as his inflamed throat made him hack.

"We'll deliver the shockpoint drive to you and then get Kyne and the Marker and smash whatever he put this data onto," she finished for Curtis. His words, her mouth. She again sighed as they arrived at the station. The ceiling above them sagged, water and sewage spilling out from pipes above.

Either Kendra hung up or time ran out for her, too. Regardless, they said everything they needed to. It didn't help the hole in her stomach, longer and deeper than ever. That tunnel was so long that it snaked through Curtis, too. Yet another thing binding them. _Ready for another round? _she asked him.

_No._

_Me neither. _Both of them were so very tired. How could they do this anymore? That was the question she kept asking as they sat down and leaned on one another as a cascade of shit poured down behind them.


End file.
